Enterprise High
by cable69
Summary: A ST: XI high school AU, being multiple chapters and of great length, depth, characterization, and other positive qualities. K/S, eventually.
1. Chapter 1: The Enterprise Incident

A/N: Yes, this story is a high school AU, which means you're probably skeptical about it. Don't worry—so am I.

Rated M _**not**_ for explicit sexual situations, but for language, **sluttiness (no, seriously)**, drug use, alcohol consumption, and some graphic violence.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter One: The Enterprise Incident_

x

"My God," said Bones, "You really haven't changed a bit, Jim."

James Kirk laughed and threw his arms around his old friend. They were standing outside of a rundown house in a suburban neighborhood near West Portal in San Francisco. Bones hugged Kirk tightly, his hands digging into his friend's shirt. Bones was nineteen. Kirk was seventeen.

"It—has—been—_ages_ since I last saw you, man," Kirk said, emphasizing each word with a clap on the back. They let go of each other, grinning hugely. "What's _up?_" Kirk said.

Bones shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Not much. You excited about startin' school tomorrow?"

"Am I! Enterprise High School, located at the intersection of Sotomayor and Laurel, student body four thousand five hundred and sixty eight, founded—uh, okay, I was bullshitting that."

"You bullshit everythin'," laughed Bones. "Enrollment's more like two thousand, and it's Morrel Street, not Laurel. I _missed_ you. You couldn't tell me sooner you were movin' back?"

"It's not like they have internet in Iowa."

Bones's eyes widened. "They sure as hell had it in Mississippi. Y'all—really didn't have internet?"

"Of course we had internet, you idiot. Want to get dinner?"

"Well…" Bones scuffed his shoes on the dirty concrete driveway. "Sure. But I have a meetin' pretty soon."

"A meeting? What is it?" Kirk looked like a curious puppy.

"Well, it's just a school thing, a year ago some of us got together and founded a club…"

"What, a youth chapter of AA? Tell me, Bones."

"It's a hovercar club," said Bones. "I know, I'm a pre-med student, not an engineer, but this girl I know convinced me to join…"

"It all makes sense, then," said Kirk, looking satisfied at Bones's motivations. "Was she pretty? What was her name? What base did you get to?"

"Halfway to _first_," said Bones. "Her name's Nyota. She's just a friend. You want to come? It won't take more'n an hour."

"An _hour?_ Bones, it's six thirty. I'm seventeen, you've got to feed me three meals a day or I dwindle to nothing."

"It'll be fun, Jim! You can meet people, and… and that girl'll be there…"

"Ooh, yeah? Alright. Let me grab my coat. Wait—" Halfway across the yard, he turned back to Bones with a expectant expression. Bones rolled his eyes.

"She's a C, alright? And she's single. But I'm tellin' you, she's the type to rip your balls off if you look at her crosswise."

"My type exactly," shouted Jim as he disappeared into the house.

x

Spock had lost his glasses.

Lips tight, the young half-Vulcan got out of his Volvo and pushed the seat all the way back. Nothing. He touched his ear, something he tended to do when puzzled or frustrated. He went to the other side of the car and pushed the passenger seat back. Again, nothing. Nothing in the glove box. Nothing on the console. Nothing in the arm rest, or in the doors, or on the backseats, or in the trunk.

Flushing green with frustration, Spock took a step backwards. His heeled boots came down on something delicate. That cracked.

Spock stood there for a moment, utterly still, waves of anger rolling over him. Then, slowly, he moved his boot to reveal the two pieces of glasses. The right arm had broken off. Spock picked them up, sat against his car, and rummaged around in his bookbag for tape, wondering how on earth they had ended up so far from his car. They must have been in his jacket when he had pulled it out of the car and flown out of their pocket.

He looked up as a beat-up old Chevy pickup pulled into the parking lot. A sleek silver motorcycle whizzed past it, did a few loops, and came to a screeching halt next to the driver's side of the truck. He recognized Leonard McCoy, but not the sandy-haired boy on the back of the motorcycle.

Shaking his head slightly at the boy's helmetless antics, Spock finished up his hasty repair job, slipped his glasses over his nose, locked his car, and proceeded inside after Bones and the newcomer.

x

Hikaru Sulu sat up in bed. He stared at the clock.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Fuckfuckfuck—"

He bounded out of bed and threw on clothes pell-mell, nearly forgetting socks. He hated it when he fell asleep so late in the afternoon. The quick herbal dosage of mary jo he'd taken after lunch must have done him in—he got lazy when he was high. He dashed out of his house and then had to dash back in to retrieve his backpack, which he threw into his vintage VW van so hard he heard one of his PADDs break. _Dammit_. At least they were old.

Sulu revved backwards out of the driveway and almost ran into a boy on a bicycle. The bicyclist overcorrected and ran smack into a taiga tree on Sulu's front lawn.

"Shit!" cried Sulu, shoving his van into park and leaping out. It occurred him that the only words he had said today were curses. The bicycle rider was sitting on the grass next to his bicycle. One of its wheels was still spinning.

"Are you alright?" asked Sulu, kneeling next to the rider, who turned to look at him, dazed.

_Woah_, thought Sulu as soon as he saw the rider's face. His mind was on pause. _Woah_, he repeated, quite unable to think anything else.

The bicycle rider was the most attractive human being he had ever laid eyes on. The boy had huge blue eyes, curly brown hair and a practically sculpted visage. As Sulu helped him to his feet, the boy's shirt rode up, and Sulu got an eyeful of ridiculously defined abs. And dear god, were those _freckles_ scattered adorably across his nose?

"Hi," said Sulu in a higher pitch than bats could hear. He coughed and tried again. "Hello," he said, this time so deep he sounded like a walking cavern.

The boy smiled shyly and Sulu melted some more. "Hello," the boy said back. His voice was light and accented. "Thank you wery much. I am sorry, I did not see your car, and I was afraid you were going to run into me."

"No, no, it's fine, _I'm_ sorry, it's all my fault, I'm _so_ sorry, I really, really apologize—here, let me grab that." Sulu propped up the boy's bicycle, which was unharmed. "I'm, uh, Hikaru Sulu."

"Pavel Chekov. It is nice to meet you."

"Oh, you too, you too," Sulu said passionately.

"Actually I haf a question," said Chekov. "I haf moved here only recently, and I was wondering, where is the high school?"

"The high school?" said Sulu, utterly unable to believe his luck. "I'm on my way there right now."

"Really? Could I follow you?"

Sulu picked up Chekov's bike, walked it to his van, and secured it to the bike rack at the front. "You can _ride_ with me. Get in."

x

Montgomery Scott and Nyota Uhura were tired, sweaty, and hot. They sat down on the cool grass outside of the shop yard at the back of Enterprise High School, exhausted. Scotty couldn't keep his eyes off of the gleaming body before him.

Uhura had to snap to get his attention. "Monty. _Monty_. You there, man? Quit looking at that thing like you're going to jump it."

"Ah I just might," said Scotty, gazing reverently at the hovercraft he had just finished assembling. "Ah mean, look at those _panels_. She could go four, five, on a good surface. There's twenty carpower in there."

"Yes, Monty," said Uhura, rolling her eyes. "It's very nice, I'm sure it will beat anything Pride or Economy or Valor have to offer."

"Well," said Scotty, finally turning to look at her, "Pride High might enter some great stuff. Their club president, Nero—"

"There you two are," said a voice from inside the shop. Uhura and Scotty turned to see Mr. Christopher Pike, the head of the physics department and club sponsor, standing at the door to the yard, grinning at them. "The meeting's about to start, come inside."

x

Pike didn't know two of the boys in the room, although there was something familiar about one of them, so he decided to do introductions. There were only eight people at the meeting; he figured they should all get to know each other.

"Okay, people," said Pike, clapping his hands to get everybody's attention. "Get in a circle."

Kirk shot Bones an incredulous look and mouthed, _"Team bonding? Seriously?"_ But everyone else looked happy—or at least, not unhappy—to comply. Kirk accidentally elbowed somebody's side as he sat down. The boy he hit, a cold-looking Vulcan, shot him an almost venomous look and scooted conspicuously closer to Scotty (which was a mistake, since Scotty had been outside for the last three days finishing the hovercraft and smelled much like a landfill). Kirk shrugged. He didn't like the look of the Vulcan anyway.

Pike settled down between Uhura and Bones. He was a strong-looking man, forty years old with graying hair and wearing a sporty blue golf shirt and khakis. He smiled at everyone.

"I'd like to start by saying that it's nice to have everyone back. Christine is sorry she couldn't make it; her family is off-planet until tonight. And I see we have two new faces. Would you guys like to introduce yourselves?"

Kirk, being Kirk, started.

"Uh, hi guys. I'm Jim Kirk, I just moved back from Iowa. Bones here is a good old friend of mine—"

Spock interrupted. "Bones?"

"Yeah," said Kirk, turning to Spock. "It's my nickname for him."

"I have always questioned what purpose nicknames serve, considering they have no logical function. Names are unique to their bearers, and if differentiation is required, surnames can be applied."

"Stuff doesn't have to have a logical function to—"

Pike coughed. "We should probably continue with introductions," he said patiently.

"Oh," said Kirk, turning away from Spock, slightly angry. "Well, have I said I just moved back from Iowa? I'm from here, actually, but we moved away a while ago, and uh… well, I came back. And actually I only showed up at this meeting because Bones promised me a bite to eat afterwards." His eyes couldn't help but turn to Uhura, who was watching Spock, who was still watching Kirk, something strange in his black eyes. "Not that I'm _not_ interested in hovercrafts! They sound, uh, very interesting…" He trailed off.

Chekov swooped to his rescue. "My name is Pavel Andreievich Chekov, and I am _wery_ interested in howercrafts." (Sulu nearly swooned at Chekov's pronunciation of 'hovercrafts.') "I haf recently moved from Tula, Russia with my parents, who are professors at the Academy. I am looking forward to attending Enterprise High with you this year."

Pike nodded approvingly at Kirk and Chekov. "It's nice to meet both of you." His eyes seemed to linger on Kirk for longer than usual. "The rest of you, would you mind introducing yourselves and stating your positions on the team? Spock, if you would begin?"

The five of six original club members made their introductions, and with that, Pike suggested that they go visit the hovercar.

On their way down to the shop, Pike drew Kirk aside from the group. "Do you remember me?" he asked.

"I can't say I do, sir," said Kirk politely.

"Ah, well," said Pike. "I was assigned to the _USS Kelvin_."

Kirk stopped in his tracks. "Really?"

"Yes," said Pike, taking Kirk's arm and moving him forwards so that nobody would notice Kirk's reaction. "I knew your father and mother very well. I was injured in the destruction of the ship and offered a teaching position at the Academy as a result. So you know, I'm here and not at the Academy because I retired two years ago."

"From the Academy?"

"And from Starfleet. The bureaucracy got to be a bit much for me. I headed into the educational sector and found this wonderful high school. You'll love it here, James."

"I sure hope so. I like it already." Kirk gave the gleaming walls an approving glance. "They've got good design sense. Better than back at Riverside, at least."

"The school _is_ beautiful. Listen, can you do me a favor? Mention me to Winona." Pike paused. "If she's with you. You didn't move here by yourself, did you?"

"No, she's with me," said Kirk slowly. "She's not—yet. She stayed in Iowa for a bit, to—finish selling the house, stuff like that. But yeah, I'll say something to her. I'm sure she'd be glad to see you."

"Yes, I'm sure she would," said Pike. "She likes old friends."

They arrived at the shop.

"Here she is," said Scotty proudly after everybody had filed outside. He threw back a sheet to reveal the hovercar. "We're not _quite_ done with her. She can be driven, but at th' moment she's got a hydrogen combustor in her since we couldnae get th' lithium crystals in from Ophiucus III in time for th' qualifyin' round. And we've got a wee bit more paintin' to do. And a name—ah figure we'd call her after th' school."

"Quite logical," said Spock, circling the vehicle. He stopped, staring at something near the tail end. "What is this, Scott?"

"Oh, er," said Scotty nervously, stepping back a little. "Well, I thought it'd be easier all around if ah went and got her registered as a proper motor vehicle, so she's got a license plate and everythin'. NCC 1701, ah think the number is."

"I'm sure you never drove it on roads unregistered," said Pike dryly.

"Of course not, sir," said Scotty, shaking his head energetically.

"So it has both the components for hydrogen and lithium crystals in it?" asked Chekov. He moved forward to look more closely at the engine and tripped magnificently over a little cardboard box on the floor. Sulu dove forward and caught him, and Kirk moved over to help the both of them upright. He snatched the cardboard box off the ground and inspected it. He was about to ask Scotty what it was when, to his surprise, McCoy asked a question instead, proving himself to be at least a bit of an engineer and not just a pre-med student. McCoy's query provoked another from Uhura, and soon everyone but Kirk was standing (or sitting) in and around the car, inspecting it closely.

The hovercar was a little shorter than a standard car these days, about nine and a half-feet long by four feet wide. The front part of the vehicle was a circular disc with a black windshield and windows. At the back, two long, blue-flamed boosters thrust out from the disc. The hover cushion was two feet thick, one of the thinnest cushions Kirk had ever seen on a non-professional hovercraft. He wondered how Scotty and the club had built it.

"Ah think we're ready for a practice run," said Scotty to no one in particular. This caught Kirk's attention. He couldn't volunteer to drive the thing, could he? No, Spock was climbing into the vehicle, much to Kirk's disappointment. That Vulcan would be an absolute bore in the driver's seat, Kirk could tell already.

"Let's move to the field," said Pike, ushering everyone outside.

The large recreational area behind the high school was under construction. The ground was torn up; deep gouges showed where trees or buildings had been ripped from the earth by the construction machines lining the field. Chekov and Kirk exchanged worried glances as Pike and Uhura held up the caution tape lining the edge of the field for Spock to drive under.

"Excuse me, Mr. Pike, but is this legal?" Kirk could not help asking. Bones looked absolutely shocked by Kirk's sudden interest in the rules. Kirk was more worried about everyone else getting in trouble; he wouldn't have hesitated before taking a spin in a construction area.

"Yes, I have clearance from the principal," Pike said. "But thank you for your concern, James."

"Most uncharacteristic," drawled Bones. Kirk winked at him.

"Just looking out for your back, Bones," said Kirk.

"How kind," said Bones sarcastically.

"Let us discuss our goals," said Spock, buzzing down the windows in the _Enterprise_ and leaning an elbow out. Uhura, who had been falling in love with Spock all summer, made sure to stand close to the window. She ran her gaze over his appearance. He generally looked slightly awkward and geeky, but today, with his half-zipped flight jacket and broken glasses, he looked rather dangerous.

"Ah'd like to see her go two hundred, laddy," said Scotty. "She'll go faster once I've got th' lithium crystals in and that heavy hydrogen body out. But for now, ah'd like t' make sure she runs fast an' sweet."

"You are simply interested in assessing the velocity performance of the hovercar, then?"

"Well, if you want t' make racing sound borin', then I suppose so."

Spock nodded sharply and retreated back inside the hovercar. He closed the windows, started the nearly silent engine, and started to move forwards, away from the group and into the field, which was long enough for a five-second burst at two hundred miles an hour, plus acceleration and deceleration time and a safety net of fifty feet. Once finished, the huge field would easily hold all of the school's stadiums, courts, and other sports facilities, but for now, it was ideal for a training run in the hovercar.

Kirk remembered the little cardboard box in his hand. He looked down at it and read the phrase on the side. Something large and dangerous clicked into place in his head.

"No!" he shouted, springing towards the quickly accelerating vehicle. "Wait! Spock! Wait!" He ran after the hovercar, waving his arms wildly. Spock ignored the frantic boy in his rearview mirror. He accelerated, approaching one hundred miles per hour.

Bones took off after Kirk, yelling curses at him, quickly followed by Uhura, then Pike, then the rest of the club. Spock had reached the edge of the field and turned left. Kirk could see a particularly large hole in the ground halfway back across the field. The elevation compensators on the vehicle were not up to strength, Kirk knew; they had been manufactured for a lithium crystal-driven hovercar. If Spock hit that hole, the car would explode.

So Kirk did something incredibly stupid, and incredibly Kirk. He was about a fourth of the way across the field by this point. He sped up, his legs pumping faster, and made sure his course would obviously intersect with that of the approaching hovercar.

Confused, Spock slowed down well in advance of both Kirk and the hole. A half a minute later, Kirk arrived panting at the side of the vehicle. Spock was already halfway out of it, speaking in what for him must have been an angry tone.

"Mr. Kirk, what were you thinking of by attempting to intersect this hovercraft in such a reckless manner? Observers of potentially dangerous sports and games remain, for perfectly logical safety reasons, on the far edge of the field of play, and never attempt to intervene in a game in progress!"

Kirk was panting too hard to reply. Bones staggered up next to Kirk and fell against the hovercraft. He tried to say something to Kirk, wheezed pathetically, and simply shook his fist limply at his friend.

"What is the _meaning_ of this?" Pike demanded breathlessly upon arrival. "James, Spock might not have seen you, you could have been hit—"

"The car," puffed Kirk, "could have exploded."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "What proof can you provide?" he said coolly, taking the opportunity to move closer to Kirk.

"This," said Kirk, holding out the little cardboard box.

There was a moment of silence as everyone stared at it. Then Scotty gasped.

"Oh, Mary, Mother of God. Th' fasteners."

"The what?" said Bones irritably.

"The fasteners for the hydrogen fuel cells," said Pike, his face going pale. "You forgot to put them on, Scotty."

"What does that _mean?_" demanded Bones.

"It means the fuel cells weren't hooked securely to the body of the car," said Sulu quietly. "They were close to the process engine, which runs at temperatures of three hundred Celsius and up. If the cells had come loose and run into the engine, they would have caused a massive explosion. And since the car is heavier because of the hydrogen system, the elevation compensators wouldn't have been able to entirely still the car as it traveled over that big hole. So they probably would have come loose then."

There was a pause as everyone processed the potential consequences.

"Kirk," said Spock shortly, approaching him. "I would like to thank you for noting the flaws in my vehicle and halting my piloting of it. I must excuse myself." He nodded to Kirk and started back across the field, pushing his hands into his pockets to hide their trembling. Uhura, wide-eyed, hurried after him.

"Well," said Scotty, shaken. "That could have ended quite badly. Ah'll just… take that," he murmured, plucking the box from Kirk's palm. He walked over to the _Enterprise_ and tried to open the engine, but the heat had warped the surface of the hatch panel slightly. Bones and Chekov went to help him.

"Very well done, James," said Pike, resting his hand on Kirk's shoulder. "I cannot thank you enough. I would like to promote you to vice president of the club."

Sulu's draw dropped. Kirk blinked.

"Excuse me, Mr. Pike?"

"I'll let Spock know in the morning. You should go home; take Leo with you. You too, Hikaru, and take your friend. I'll see you tomorrow, James. Once more, thank you."

"Anytime," said Kirk, bemused. "Anytime."

x

"That," said Bones, "was fuckin' impressive."

"Wasn't it?" said Kirk, who had practically recovered. They were sprawled in the living room of Kirk's house, talking over a steaming pizza. "I'm really quite incredible, you know."

"Okay then, no more complements for you," said Bones wearily. "This hero of the hour thing really boosts your ego, huh?"

"'Course it does. I saved a man's life! Speaking of, why do you think he didn't stay to chat more, to, you know, give me more of an opportunity to bask in the warm, golden glow of glory and all…"

"Spock doesn't _chat_," said Bones. "Spock probably doesn't even know what _chat_ means. I'm bettin' he was pretty freaked out by what happened. Plus, I don't think he likes you."

"What gives you that idea?" said Kirk, grinning. He didn't like Spock much either. He was a little too nerdy for Kirk's taste, and he had never seen anything sexy about Vulcans.

Bones laughed. "Dammit, Jim, he's half-Vulcan; that's about as emotionally repressed as you get. You're—well, you're _you_. You couldn't define 'inhibitions' if your life depended on it."

"That's not true! As long as I had a PADD with me, I could let you know what it meant in a nanosecond."

Bones shook his head. "You're incorrigible. Listen, it's late. I should go."

Kirk's face changed; he looked, suddenly, incredibly sad. "Oh, please don't, Bones. I've missed you." He looked into Bones's eyes. "I've missed you so much. Can't you—stay the night, or something?"

Bones sighed. "Well, if you insist, Jim. I missed you too. As long as you get a bed made up for me, I'll hang around."

x

Bones woke up the next day with Kirk's arm around his naked torso and knew immediately that this was going to be a very interesting year.

x


	2. Chapter 2: This Side of Paradise

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Two: This Side of Paradise_

x

Kirk showered, brushed his teeth and hair, and dressed with a smile on his face. He'd moved back to San Francisco only two days previously, and for more than three weeks before that, he had been busy helping his mother pack up their house in Iowa. So he hadn't had any fun makeout sessions in about a month, which was definitely some kind of record for him. At the age of seventeen, he was infamous for having slept with the majority of his class. He wasn't regarded as a slut, exactly, but he was the go-to guy for quickies. Back in Riverside, though, the choices had been limited. His high school only had four hundred people, so he got bored easily, and had nearly gotten expelled a few months ago for moving from students to teachers. It was one of the reasons his mother had decided to accept the promotion Starfleet had finally offered her and move back to San Francisco.

He was pretty sure Bones wasn't going to be speaking to him when they got to school. Bones had always been sensitive about little things like kissing. But really, it wasn't like Bones had objected. Kirk had secretly rewired the air conditioning so that it wouldn't turn off and convinced Bones that he was freezing alone in his bed. One thing led to another, and was it Kirk's fault that Bones had made those blissful noises as Kirk had sucked on his neck? Oh, it was good to be back in the game.

x

"I—am going—to _kill_—Jim."

It was Bones's morning mantra. Usually his morning mantra was something like, "I will do well on my physics test," or, "I will work up the courage to talk to Yolande Saunders today," but as soon as he saw his neck in the mirror, he changed it from "I might have to kill Jim" to the more accurate current version.

x

Uhura had spent the night at Scotty's house. She had known him for all of her life; their parents had been good friends before they were born. She knew Scotty's one true passion was engineering, so she felt safer around him than she felt around most people. Her other friends were all sex-obsessed, and she didn't feel like getting caught in the hormonal crossfire tonight, not after what happened with Spock.

"I made an absolute _fool_ of myself, Monty," she told him, flopping down on his bed the next morning after taking a shower. "I chased after him when everyone could _tell_ he was all shaken up and tried to talk to him. I said, 'What do you need?' and hugged him and it was just _horrible_, he didn't even try to hug me back. All he said was that he needed everyone to continue performing admirably. And the _look_ he gave me, it was like I was a _bug_. I've never felt smaller in my life."

"Ah can give him a piece of my mind for you, if you'd like," said Scotty, frowning down at her. "Or a piece of my fist."

"Oh, no, don't do that," said Uhura. "He wasn't rude." Scotty relaxed. "He was just—Spock. Which, I know, I know, I should have expected."

"Well, ah suppose you should've," said Scotty. "Now turn around, ah've got to put me clothes on."

"I might as well, too," said Uhura. Facing away from each other, Uhura dropped her towel and Scotty pulled off his pajamas. "Do you think Mr. Pike managed to put our schedules together?"

"Oh, 'tis likely. He's got influence, he does."

Uhura zipped up her skirt, then studied the two tops she had brought with her.

"Red or gold, Monty, what do you think?"

"Ah'm a mechanic, not a designer."

"Just answer."

"Alrighty then, ah like red better."

Uhura pulled the red shirt on.

x

Sulu took thirty whole minutes to shower the next morning. He hadn't been able to talk to Chekov much after the meeting, mainly because the boy turned out to be almost painfully shy when not talking about physics. As Chekov cycled home, Sulu sat in his van in the school parking lot and breathed heavily, trying to calm himself.

Sulu's house was empty by the time Sulu was dressed for school. His parents were never home. They were particle physicists at Stanford, absorbed in their work, dismissive of their three children. Hikaru was the youngest. His two sisters were out of college. Miko, the oldest, was a photographer in Seattle. Inoue had moved to Theta V, where she was a school principal. Only Hikaru had inherited his parents' interest in science, but not in quite the way they preferred. He was planning on joining Starfleet. His parents were pacifists and disapproved of any military organization, even a peacekeeping force. But all Sulu wanted to do was fly a starship.

x

Spock selected his clothing carefully. He knew most of his teachers already, but he did not want to appear unkempt on the first day back. Of course, he almost never appeared unkempt, except for directly after he had awoken. It frustrated him that he was unable to keep still when he slept. While he fell asleep in the same position every night—on his back, his hands clasped over his breastbone—he would invariably wake up on his side or stomach or curled up, the sheets crumpled around him. He was glad nobody was there to watch him sleep.

He chose a crimson collared shirt and charcoal gray slacks. He packed his bookbag, put on his fixed glasses, draped his pinstripe jacket over his arm, and left for school, kissing his mother Amanda goodbye and patting I-Chaya, his _sehlat_, on the head as he walked out the door.

x

Chekov scrubbed his teeth with one hand and pulled on his shoes with the other, accidentally drooling toothpaste all over the new carpet. Muttering curses in Russian, he wiped up the foam after rinsing his mouth and swung his backpack over his shoulders. His mother and father hugged him goodbye and good luck in his new school. He tossed himself onto his bicycle and wheeled off towards Enterprise High. He wasn't thinking about much other than what his new classes were going to be like and if he'd have to talk to people. He figured he would hang out with the boy he met yesterday, Hikaru, who was very nice, or maybe Jim, who was very attractive. He was a little afraid of Leonard, Spock, and Nyota; they seemed brisk and unfriendly. Jim, though. Chekov smiled. Jim he could get closer to.

Chekov acquired his schedule from the front desk when he arrived at the school. First period: Advanced Placement English IV with Mr. K. Maru.

x

Enterprise High School was thirty years old. Wrought of stone, the outer walls curved pleasantly and the solar panels on the tilted roof shone brilliantly in the morning sun. The large entranceway arched above a single door, twenty feet wide and consisting of a single pane of blue glass edged by highly polished redwood. The doors opened each morning at seven. Students trickled in until eight o'clock, when classes began.

The property was lined by redwood trees, as tall as the school but still young and growing. Ivy and roses grew up the stone, imported from the south, twining around columns and creeping over windows. The cafeteria, a hemisphere with the diameter as a window, which again consisted of a single large pane of cerulean glass, viewed the recreational field at the back of the school, which was currently and unattractively under construction.

Kirk entered through the back doors at around seven thirty. He simply couldn't believe the number of beautiful girls and boys on this campus. The place was like paradise. His eyes were everywhere trying to keep up. The ones he stared at tended to return his lustful glances, appreciating what they saw. He collected eighteen phone numbers on his way to the office without initiating a single conversation. His ego was in danger of exploding.

He had gotten his schedule and a map and left the office when he saw Bones entering through the front door. He tried to hide but Bones spotted him and was on him in a split second, grasping his shoulder so tightly he felt sure the bone was about to splinter.

"You _bastard_," spat Bones, pushing him against a wall and leaning in close to Kirk's face. Kirk couldn't help but be aroused by Bones's proximity and passionate anger. "_Look_ at this bruise. It's _huge_. It's the first day of school, Jim, what the hell were you thinkin'?"

"Not much," admitted Kirk. "I was focusing pretty heavily on the noises you were making."

"Just because I liked it doesn't mean I want it _now!_ It's the _first day of school_," Bones repeated helplessly. "You couldn't have thought of that?"

"Definitely not my responsibility," said Kirk. "Let me reiterate, you were not objecting at the time. It's not my fault my mouth is magical."

"Your _mouth_ is not _magical,_" hissed Bones, earning himself a double-take from the girl passing behind him. "It projects your voice, and is thus _utterly dead to me_."

"You're sexy when your accent gets lost in your frustration," Kirk leaned forward to whisper in Bones's ear. "I like it."

Bones turned slightly red, but let go of Kirk disgustedly. "I sure as hell don't like _you_. You'll get paid back for this, I swear."

"Yeah, whatever," said Kirk. "Now, would you mind escorting me to class?" He stuck out his arm.

"Escort yourself," snapped Bones. "I've got English IV first."

"With Mr. Maru?"

"Yeah."

"What a coincidence." Kirk held out his schedule. "Me too."

"What? How'd you get into English IV? You're a damn junior."

"No, I'm a senior. The counselor at my old school told me I couldn't graduate in four years, not with 'an attitude like mine,' so I decided to do it in three. Got my freshman and sophomore classes over with the first year. Last year was a piece of cake; I figure this year won't be much different."

Bones didn't know what to say. He simply turned on his heel and walked away. Chuckling, Kirk followed him.

x

Spock eyed Bones and Kirk as they entered the classroom ten minutes before the bell. They didn't seem to be speaking; at least, Bones didn't seem to be speaking to Kirk, who was talking merrily at his friend. He watched the new boy, but briefly; Uhura had just entered, and she was proving to be rather distracting in her low-cut red blouse. He was glad that his mind had shifted away from Kirk. Of course, as soon as he thought that, his mind betrayed him again by returning to the initial subject. He looked away from both of them, trying to control himself.

Uhura, still uncomfortable around Spock, had elected to sit with her friends. Scotty was surrounded by four girls, but he was ignoring them for the recently-released blueprints of the newest Starfleet vessel. Even when Galia dropped a pencil near Scotty's desk and leaned over to pick it up, he didn't tear his eyes away, although most of the rest of the class did.

Bones headed for Uhura's group so he could sit near Christine Chapel, a girl he'd met in his medical class last year and convinced to join the hovercar club. She smiled at him as he sat down next to her, Kirk following him like a lost (but talkative) puppy. Kirk made eyes at all four girls—Uhura, Gaila, Chapel, and Janice Rand. Uhura's face closed up: she wasn't in to pushy types. Gaila, who was in to people that breathed, made eyes back. Chapel ignored him for Bones, and Janice looked askance at Galia.

Predictably, Kirk sat down next to Gaila. Nearly the whole class rolled their eyes, already having gotten the hang of Kirk.

"So, Leo," said Chapel loudly. The class looked from Kirk and Gaila to Chapel and Bones. "What's wrong with your neck?"

Bones turned bright red. "Ran into a tree," he muttered, trying to lean his chin on his hand so that his neck would be invisible to observers.

"I'm sure you did," smirked Chapel. "And what was the tree named?"

Kirk wasn't sure if he wanted to be implicated in this. He saw Bones's hand twitch, as if dreaming of grasping Kirk's throat (_Probably non-sexily_, Kirk thought sadly). But he was unable to resist needling Bones. He put on a yes-what-_was_-the-tree-named expression and stared expectantly at his friend.

"That would be my business, Chris," said Bones as smoothly as possible. He was actually going to kill Kirk after school. He was already making plans. _It can look like an accident if Jim falls down a set of stairs, or happens to stab himself in the stomach with a bread knife at home…_

"I never thought Leo was such a slut," Gaila said quietly in Kirk's ear, making him start. "But I can smell you are." She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I can still smell him on you. That's pretty hot."

"Thank you," said Kirk smoothly. "James Tiberius Kirk. Pleased to meet you. Call me Jim."

"Gaila. What your species has against single names, I'll never know. Welcome to Enterprise High. Where are you from?"

"Here, originally. I've been in Iowa for the past few years; my mom worked at the Starfleet shipyard there. What about you?"

"I am from Orion, as you can possibly tell. Have you met an Orion before?"

"Have I," said Kirk, looking reminiscent.

"I see," said Gaila, laughing. Kirk could tell that she was a cheerful, dangerously clever sort of girl.

"So what can you tell me about Mr. Maru?" he said.

"He's an asshole," said Gaila firmly; she had complained about Mr. Maru before. "He's a great teacher, but a terrible human. Every year, at the beginning of the first semester, he gives us this test that is impossible to pass. We have to answer questions about the book we've just finished reading. But they're questions like, 'What is the fourteenth punctuation mark on page thirty seven?' and 'Exactly how many times does the author use the word "bell" in the novel?' Nobody gets above a forty, except for Spock, but he's never broken forty five."

"Why does Maru do that?"

"He says we're over-privileged spoiled brats and back in his day they didn't give grades above a 5.0. Archaic, huh? It means that nobody in the school has a perfect 6.0."

Kirk froze. "Really?"

"Really. Spock's first with a 5.9989. Scotty has a 5.9892. I have a 5.9887. I'm sure it drives Spock crazy, not having an even six. I don't mind; Scotty and I have been battling for second for awhile now, and it makes it fun when there's more of a challenge."

"That's true," said Kirk, his face breaking into a grin. "You're competitive, are you?"

"Incredibly," said Gaila. "But not nearly as competitive as Spock. The one time I got a higher grade than him on a history test, he wouldn't speak to me for a week."

"That's interesting," said Kirk, filing that bit of information away. Maybe he could use it to torture Spock with; he had taken a distinct dislike to the half-Vulcan. "That's _very_ interesting."

The bell rang.

Mr. Maru was a slim Japanese man with pure white hair. He opened the class with a reading from _Antigone_. In the middle of the paragraph, the door burst open and an out of breath, beet red Chekov stumbled inside and stopped stock still feet from the door, seeing that all eyes were on him.

"Can I help you?" said Mr. Maru dangerously. Sulu's hands clenched themselves into white-knuckled fists.

"Yes, sir, I was just trying to find my way around the school, and I am new, and think I am in your class." Chekov proffered his schedule hesitantly. Mr. Maru snatched it away from him and inspected the transparency.

"You're in the right place, Mr. Chekov. Take a seat, and try not to be late again. Page one hundred and sixty four."

Chekov scurried over to a seat at the back of the room, still scarlet, and opened the book on his desk. Mr. Maru harrumphed, pushed his glasses up from the tip of his nose, and continued reading.

Sulu unclenched his fists. Spock, whose eyes had been on Sulu's hands, looked away.

x

Physics with Mr. Pike was next. The club members thanked him for his influence on their schedule; Pike's talk with the counselors had resulted in all of the club members having six of seven classes together. The exception was fifth period, during which they went off to their various electives. Third period they had history with Ms. Tyvak. Fourth period was lunch and AP study hall, which meant basically that they got to hang around in Pike's room for an hour and a half. Predictably, Spock worked throughout the whole period, despite having nearly no homework. Sixth period was economics and seventh period was calculus. All of their classes were Advanced Placement.

Fifth period was unique. Kirk had signed up for a military history class that he thoroughly enjoyed. Bones and Chapel were continuing with their medical studies class. Scotty was taking shop. Chekov had elected to take another math, and Sulu was on the school's flight simulator. Spock had a computer class. Uhura was beginning Vulcan.

After school, Kirk and Gaila went to a park nearby and made out for a couple of hours. Bones went home and stared at his neck in the mirror, half turned on by his memories of last night and half still pissed. Uhura, Chapel, Rand, Scotty, and Sulu, who convinced Chekov to come, met at a coffee shop, the Shore Leave, after their respective dinners and talked for a couple of hours.

Spock studied the entire day. Late at night, he closed his book and put his head in his hands, allowing himself a single moment of weakness. No matter what he did, he couldn't stop thinking about him. He'd been thinking about him all day, ever since the dream he'd had the night before, the dream of being pinned against a wall and kissed within an inch of his life. Spock shook his head, forcing the image away. There. It was gone. He was done. There would be no more of his useless human weakness. No more fantasies, no more dreams.

His subconscious didn't listen, and he woke up the next morning covered in sweat, spread out luxuriously on his back as if he were being crushed under some foreign body. Spock threw himself into the shower, trying to wash his thoughts of James Kirk away.

x

Uhura came home from the Shore Leave and got up the courage to email Spock. Her first day of Vulcan hadn't been difficult, but she knew that this was her chance to catch Spock's eye.

_Dear Spock_, she typed, _I was wondering if it would be possible for you to tutor me in your native language…_

x


	3. Chapter 3: Wink of an Eye

A/N: I don't believe women will still be taking men's names three hundred years in the future, so Kirk's mother is Winona Lawrence, not Winona Kirk. I mean, let's be realistic.

PS: Writing slut!geek!Kirk is _so much fun_. I love him.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Three: Wink of an Eye_

x

Kirk and Gaila were made for each other. When the front door to Kirk's house was unlocked at five o'clock in the morning, Galia sprang out of bed, grabbed her clothes, and flew out the window before Kirk had opened his eyes. "It's your mom," Gaila hissed at him through the window, glancing over the bushes she was hiding behind and recognizing the features of the woman opening the front door. "I thought you said she was showing up tomorrow."

"Well, that was yesterday, so. But yeah. Didn't expect her to get in at five AM," Kirk said, trying not to yawn.

"Good luck. See you later. Mwah." Gaila blew a kiss at Kirk and disappeared.

Kirk rolled out of bed, stretching and trying not to run into walls. He managed to pull pajama pants and an undershirt on and stagger into the hallway. He'd only been asleep for two hours and was incredibly sore (Galia was a _monster_ in bed); why did his mother have to show up so damn early?

He was about to walk into the living room, where the lights were on, when he remembered to detour into the bathroom to check for incriminating evidence. Oh shit, there was a used condom stuck to the sleeve of his shirt. He peeled it off and wrapped it in about eighteen layers of toilet paper before hiding it deep in the trashcan. He ran his hand through his hair, wiped the lip gloss off of his collarbone and ear, and went to greet his mother.

"Hey there, sleepy-head," said Winona happily. "It's good to see you!"

"You too, mom," said Kirk, hugging her tightly and hoping he didn't smell too much like sex. "Thought your shuttle didn't get in till a reasonable time."

"Who needs reasonable? Continental bumped me up to first class and offered me an earlier departure, so I took it. Help me with the bags, will you? And why haven't you unpacked any boxes yet?"

"I've unpacked some boxes," said Kirk petulantly.

"Yes, _your_ boxes."

"Well, I've had homework."

"You had two days before you started school!"

"The first day I unpacked my stuff, and then the day before school I met up with Bones," said Kirk, not mentioning that he'd explored San Francisco that morning.

"Oh, he's still around, is he? How's he doing?"

"Pretty good," said Kirk uncomfortably. "Still wants to be a doctor."

"Is he still dating that Jocelyn girl? It must be three years, now."

"Uh, they broke up right before summer."

"What a shame. We knew her when we lived her; she was very nice."

Kirk rolled his eyes. Yeah. Very nice years ago.

"Are you in any of his classes?"

"Six out of seven. One of the teachers got us into the same classes. Actually, the teacher is Christopher Pike, mom."

Winona paused over a piece of luggage. "Really. Christopher is teaching at your school?"

"Yeah, physics. And he's sponsor of the hovercar club. Which I joined. Remind me to tell you more about that."

"Okay. How is he?"

"Good, I guess. You know I'd never met him, mom, I just heard about him from you, and I didn't realize it was him until he said he knew you."

"Yes, we lost contact after—after your father died. Tell him I said hello."

"'Kay. You get the sale of the house finalized?"

"Yes. And I got the lawyer's bill settled. Frank shouldn't be bothering us any more."

Winona watched Kirk for his reaction, but he didn't say anything. He hefted a bag. "God, what did you put in this suitcase, bricks?"

"Just bring it inside." She smiled at him. "I missed you, Jim."

"I missed you too, mom."

x

Spock read the email three times before replying in the affirmative. He would be glad to tutor Uhura in Vulcan. He couldn't help but feel complemented that she would ask him for help. He was well acquainted with everyone in the hovercar club, of course, and had a number of other contacts in the school, but there was nobody at school he would call a friend. He wondered if he could strike up such a friendship with Uhura, who seemed to be cut out of his same cloth. She was intelligent, controlled, and polite. She was also attractive, but he had not been doing so well with people he found attractive lately, so he tried not think about that.

Uhura had her PADD on audio alert for new emails and had already been pinged eight times by spam. So when the bell noise sounded again, she picked it up with less excitement than usual. But a smile soon crossed her face—Spock would evidently be interested in tutoring her. Provided she arrived early to their first period class, he would be willing to discuss arrangements with her.

Uhura was there when the doors to the school opened. Spock arrived forty minutes later, which gave Uhura plenty of time to stare at herself in a hand mirror, correcting single hairs. He nodded slightly in her direction and sat in the desk beside her. Uhura felt her heart beat faster. He was so attractive, tall and lean and clearly intelligent. She had a thing for scholar-types. All the people she'd dated in high school had been in the top fifty in the class. Most of the people she knew didn't find Spock at all attractive, which shocked her. Sure, he was reserved and cool and different, but he was also first in the class.

"Hey," she said casually.

"Good morning, Nyota." said Spock. He looked serene. "Is your study of Vulcan progressing slowly?"

_Was this Spock making conversation? Surely not_. "It's not progressing _slowly_, as such," Uhura admitted. This was all part of her plan. "I'm doing much better than the teacher expected me to."

"Unsurprising. You have demonstrated an incredible talent for languages. How many are you capable of speaking?"

"Seventeen," said Uhura. "Ten Earth languages and seven alien languages. I'm also going to be learning Romulan during the second semester, and I know the differences between the languages are slight. I suppose I don't really _need_ help, but I would enjoy outdoing my own expectations."

"I was wondering—is one the languages you speak Klingon?"

"Yes, I've been proficient since I was twelve."

"That's very impressive. Klingon is one of the more difficult alien languages to learn. Is there a preferable time for me to assist you?"

"After eight, actually, is best for me," said Uhura, cheering inwardly. "I have tennis until six and then dinner, and then I should do some homework before you come over. Uh, you can come to my house, right? Or should we meet somewhere? Or should I come to your house?"

"I can easily locate your residence." Spock gave her his version of a smile. "I was not aware you were involved in extracurricular activities other than hovercar club and karate."

"Well, my dad encourages me to play. He's always claimed he was a descendent of Roger Federer."

"How charmingly illogical."

"Isn't it? Have you met my dad? He's like that."

They talked about their families until the bell rang.

x

Mr. Maru seldom asked questions of his class, preferring discussion amongst his students to arise from his comments rather than his queries. Spock was, as a rule, uninterested in the subject; the emotions that ran high in literature were difficult for him to understand and analyze.

In all other classes, however, Spock excelled, answering half of the questions the teacher posed and generously allowing the other half to be answered by the rest of the students. Physics was second period. It was one of Spock's favorite classes. But the occasion was marred slightly when Kirk took a seat to the right of Spock, pausing to grin at him before dumping his backpack all over the table.

Spock touched his ear. He wasn't sure if he could deal with sitting next to Kirk. Not after those highly unusual dreams.

"Good to see you again, Spock," said Kirk lightly. "Feeling better after your near miss?"

"My mental state is unchanged, James," said Spock coldly. "While I appreciate your actions on my behalf, I find them to be tinged with a hint of ego."

"Ego? Me?" said Kirk innocently. "Heaven forbid. Oh look, it's the bell."

Spock opened his notebook, hand wrapped firmly around his left ear.

Pike generally started the class with warm-up problems. He drew a diagram on the board and turned to the class.

"Say two point charges of a and b, both at +20nC, are placed ten meters apart from one another. Tell me the electrical fields at points one, two and three," he said, gesturing to the diagram.

Spock paused to calculate the problems in his head. To his shock, he saw Pike's head nod. Who was he signaling to answer?

"Zero, ten point two N/C, and seven point eight N/C," said Kirk from beside him, leaning back calmly in his chair.

Spock blinked.

"Good," said Pike blandly. A silence had fallen over the class. Spock could sense everyone staring at him.

Pike drew another diagram on the board. Spock began calculating the possible questions and answers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kirk's fingers move as if they were holding a pen and writing equations.

"How many degrees below the x axis is the force on a proton located at point P?" asked Pike.

Spock opened his mouth. "Forty nine point three," said Kirk smoothly before Spock could speak.

"And if an electron," said Pike, "at q equals one point six times ten to the negative nineteenth C and m equals nine point eleven at ten to the negative thirty first kilograms, accelerates from rest through a potential difference of three hundred and sixty point eight volts, what is the electron's final speed in miles per second?"

There was a pause. Nobody else in the class was working the problem, not even Scotty or Chekov. They were watching Kirk and Spock.

"Eleven million, two hundred and fifty six thousand, six hundred and eighty miles per second, sir," said Kirk.

Spock's nostrils flared once. He attempted to still himself. He had not even been halfway finished with the problem when Kirk answered.

"One last question," said Pike, still seemingly detached. "Say an electron enters a region where the field strength is three times ten to the sixth N/C. First, what is the electron's acceleration? Second, how far does the electron travel to acquire ten percent the speed of light?"

Spock calculated frantically in his mind. He saw Kirk's hand stop moving. He'd figured it out. But he didn't answer.

"Five million three hundred and sixty seven thousand nine hundred and two light years per second and four point eight five million parsecs," said Spock quickly, almost hurriedly.

"Very well done, boys," said Pike, a small smile on his face. "Now, having reviewed electrical fields and their influences, let's talk a bit more about electromagnetism."

Spock stared straight ahead, ignoring the looks his classmates were shooting him. Kirk sprawled across his desk, utterly relaxed. Everybody could tell that he'd known the answer to the last problem. He'd given it to Spock.

x

It was the same throughout the entire day. In history, Kirk would swoop in with a date or a name just before Spock got it off the tip of his tongue. In economics, Kirk's graphs were more detailed than Spock's. In calculus, Kirk once more was faster with his math.

Spock was no longer uncomfortable around Kirk. Now, he was angry. His blood was simmering under his thin skin. All he wanted to do was pin Kirk against a wall and strangle him. The dream had disappeared (almost) entirely, to be replaced by a rage on slow boil.

To add insult to injury, as they were packing up at the end of calculus, their last class, Kirk turned to Spock.

"It was nice jousting with you today, Spock. I'm sorry I've danced in so unexpectedly. My old school was pretty boring. There wasn't much competition."

"Fascinating," said Spock tightly, pulling the ties on his bookbag with violent force.

"Still, I did manage to keep my GPA pretty high. Ended up with a solid 6.0, actually. I heard that because of Mr. Maru, nobody's been able to get past a 5.9999. What a shame. Looks like I'm first in the class, for now."

And with a charming smile, Kirk swept out of the classroom.

When Spock got home, he punched a hole in his wall.

x

Kirk and Bones sat in the Shore Leave, sipping cappuccinos.

"Did you really have to goad him like that, Jim?" said Bones, sounding frustrated. "I really think he might try to kill you. His expression was pure venom."

"He's fun to mess with," said Kirk, looking bored. "It's nothing personal."

"Nothin' personal my ass. You're mad him for not thankin' you for savin' his life."

"That's not true! I just… feel he should be taken down a notch. He's much too serious. No sense of humor."

"I may not be as smart as you, Jim, but I know that you can't make an enemy like Spock. That man doesn't forgive, doesn't forget. He'll haunt you. He'll up the stakes."

"It's just a game, Bones! You should know better than to take me seriously."

"You know, Jim, I really should," growled Bones, standing suddenly. "I've had enough of you already. You were always _predatory_, even when we were just kids. You were always after me, even then, even when I was eleven and you were nine and two years was a big difference. And now you _are_ here, after eight years, after I was sure you weren't comin' back, and you haven't grown up a damn bit after all. You're just the same as you always were, spoilt and self-centered and cruel. People aren't _playthings_. You should know better than that, at your age."

Kirk was taken aback. He hadn't thought Bones capable of that kind of reprimand. Evidently he didn't know Bones as well as he thought. But maybe Bones didn't know him as well as _he_ thought.

"At least I'm better than you. At least I didn't run around with the same bitch for three years, hopelessly in love with a lie. You don't even know how damaged you are, Bones. We'd kept up contact so well. We'd talk and talk and talk and then _she_ slips into your life. Do you know how much that hurt, when you disappeared? I needed you, Bones, and you weren't there for me. You just _left_. You don't even know… Never mind. I don't even want to tell you."

"And I don't want to hear any more bullshit from you, Jim. Go, live your pathetic damn life. See if I care what you do."

Bones threw his chair back and stormed out.

Kirk stayed, immobile in his seat, clutching the armrests. God, he was actually trying not to cry. He bit his lip, trembling. _Bones_. _Dammit, Bones. I nearly told you. I _nearly_ told you._

x

Christine Chapel looked up. Uhura was online. She slid her keyboard over to her study space and typed, _hey nyota. when's spock coming over?_

nuhura: fifteen minutes. i'm freaking out.

cchapel: i bet you are. i'd sure be. you'll be fine though, i promise.

cchapel: room clean?

nuhura: as a whistle. what does that expression even mean

cchapel: no clue. you on problem 9 yet?

nuhura: yes and i'm stuck, you too? i hate calculus.

cchapel: get spock to help you with it. ;)

nuhura: shuttup

nuhura: so, i'm not stepping in on your territory anymore, right?

nuhura: you know. with him.

cchapel: honey, i'm over spock. i was over him as soon as jocelyn broke up with leo. i'd never realized how attractive that man wa

cchapel: *was

nuhura: leo? come on. he's too grumpy.

cchapel: he's incredible! you're not in our med class. he's brilliant. he's nearly as smart as i am.

nuhura: this is my surprised face.

cchapel: you bitch. seriously

cchapel: i dunno. theres just something about him, that i can't really put my finger on

nuhura: bet you'd like to put your finger on it.

cchapel: you are such a perv. if you make a that's what she said around spock i'll, i don't even know, bear your children.

nuhura: oh i could never. you know spock wouldn't get a double entendre if it danced naked in front of him wearing a tea cosy.

cchapel: you nerd.

cchapel: yeah he probably wouldn't. tragic…

nuhura: you think he likes you back? leo?

cchapel: yeah, no.

cchapel: OKAY WHOSE HICKEY WAS THAT

cchapel: ive been meaning to ask you. i mean what the fuck

nuhura: right?? its so uncharacteristic of him

nuhura: (i spell uncharacteristic right but don't punctuate it's properly…)

cchapel: (haha)

cchapel: i sorta think it might be the new kid.

nuhura: god he is horny enough. he's already slept with gaila.

cchapel: that doesn't say much. we've already slept with gaila. it's like a badge of… being alive.

nuhura: well that's true. still. less than 24 hours. pretty impressive.

cchapel: how that girl stays third in the class and sleeps with that many people i will never know

nuhura: for real. fourth now, i guess.

nuhura: oh my god he's here

nuhura: i'm going to go panic now

cchapel: aah! you'll do fine. breathe. don't forget to be sexy. but not _too _sexy. just the right amount of sexy.

cchapel: and smart! be smart!

nuhura: SHUT UP. BYE

x

Kirk didn't feel like going home, but he couldn't just sit there, fuming about Bones. He went to the bar to get another drink. If he could find his fake ID, everything would be much better, but the chip for it was somewhere in one of the unpacked boxes and he wasn't quite motivated enough to search for it. So, more coffee.

Chekov was at the bar too, ordering a frappe and an iced tea. Kirk sidled up to him as they were waiting for their drinks.

"Hey, Pavel," he said. "How's it going?"

"Wery well, Jim. I am here with a few people, Hikaru and Scotty and Janice and Gaila. Would you like to join us?"

"That'd be wonderful, thanks. I could use some friendly company."

Sulu couldn't help but bristle a little when Kirk followed Chekov back. He'd just heard that Kirk had already slept with Gaila, and while that was Gaila's way of saying hello, the speed with which the greetings had been exchanged was quite suspicious, especially considering the way Chekov was watching Kirk.

Kirk smiled familiarly at Gaila, who looked friendly rather than rapacious now. She patted the seat beside her and he settled down next to her. They started talking about calculus immediately. Chekov listened intently. Rand chimed in, being a bit of a math whiz herself. Sulu saw how Kirk looked at her, almost as if she were another piece of meat. When Chekov made a comment, Kirk turned to him and winked. _Winked_.

Scotty put a hand on Sulu's leg. "Calm down, laddie," he said quietly. "You dunnae have claim on Pavel yet."

"I know," said Sulu. "I just…" He shook his head helplessly.

But Kirk backed off for the rest of the evening. He was perfectly decent to Rand and Chekov. When they left, Sulu thought that Kirk might not be as bad as he thought.

Of course, he didn't see Chekov watching Kirk drive away on his motorcycle. He couldn't know how appreciative Chekov was of Kirk's physique.

Chekov let himself know later that night, so enthusiastically that it took a sheet-washing to dispose of the evidence.

x

Spock and Uhura were making progress. Uhura showed a remarkable understanding of Vulcan even though she had only begun learning it last week. Spock helped her for an hour on some of the more difficult grammar points. As the clock approached nine, they started speaking more, discussing vocabulary words and forming sentences to each other.

The light in the room grew dimmer, as atmospheric lights were programmed to do. The shadows on Uhura's face lengthened, emphasizing her sharp cheekbones and deep eyes. As she looked down at her textbook, Spock allowed himself to gaze down the length of her jaw and neck. Her skin glowed in the soft light, rich and warm. He could see her pulse.

At nine, she thanked him with a sweet smile and showed him out. They lingered on the front porch for as long as they could.

Uhura watched his headlights all the way to the road. Spock watched his rear view mirror even further.

They were both quiet as they prepared for bed in their separate homes. Thinking. And in Uhura's case, planning.

x


	4. Chapter 4: A Private Little War

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Four: A Private Little War_

x

Bones kicked the ball viciously. It slammed into the net and ricocheted back to him. He kicked again, with much greater force. The ball didn't come out of the goal this time. Undoubtedly it was afraid of him.

He heard the grass crunch behind him. He retrieved the ball from the goal anyway and kicked it again.

"No wonder you're the star quarterback and the star striker," said Sulu. "I've heard you're no good at doubles tennis, though."

"Doesn't matter," growled Bones, giving the ball another whack. "I'm best alone."

"Teamwork, my friend," said Sulu. "As a team sports boy, you should know that."

"Shut up, Hikaru. I'm tryin' to concentrate."

"No, you're trying to destroy that poor, defenseless soccer ball. Come sit down. I brought you some water."

Bones flopped down next to Sulu without protest. Sulu handed him the bottle and Bones drained it.

"Thanks," Bones said.

"Anytime," said Sulu. "Now, what's up with you and the new kid? He gave you that, didn't he?" he asked, gesturing at the still-distinct mark on Bones's neck.

Bones scowled. "I don't want to talk about Jim."

"Suit yourself."

They sat in silence for a while. It was morning. The trees were a deep amber, dyed by the light of the sun that rose behind their branches. Beams of light sparkled on the dewy grass. Their surroundings were bright and idyllic. Bones hated it.

"Let's go inside," he said.

"I have another idea," said Sulu, removing a little drawstring bag from his backpack. "You need to relax. Here." He handed Bones a neatly rolled joint.

Bones eyed it skeptically. "Would you believe that I've never smoked before?"

"You pre-med types must have no fun. Watch me." He took the joint back, placed it between his lips, and lit the tip, and puffed a little. Then he took a long drag. "It's pretty simple. Seal your lips around it and breathe in. You're probably going to cough. That's okay." He handed the joint back, exhaling the smoke. "Try to hold it in your lungs."

"At least we don't get cancer anymore," Bones said. "Bottom's up." He put the joint to his lips, pulled the smoke down his throat and held it there for a moment before breathing out. "Woah. My lungs feel warm."

"Nice job," said Sulu. "Two more hits each, then we should go inside. By the way, research never established a link between lung cancer and marijuana use."

"Yeah, but the health risks are there." Bones took another hit. "Not that they're botherin' me at the moment. You, though. How often d'you light up?"

"Twice a week, probably. I've got to keep fast reflexes for pilot training."

"Oh. Good for you. I was gonna to advise you not to smoke too much."

"Hey! You just took two hits! More like the Hypocritical Oath."

They laughed for five straight minutes.

"Tell me about Jim," said Sulu, once they could keep straight faces.

Bones made a face. "Don't know what to say. The boy's uncontrollable. I can't even understand what goes through his mind half the time. You know he's already slept with Gaila."

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal. Everybody has. Scotty had to remind me last night."

"Gettin' jealous over the Russian kid, huh? Saw y'all at Shore Leave when I came in."

"You were there?"

"It was where me and Jim had our fight. I chose to do the stormin' out."

"Oh. He came and hung with us afterwards. He did seem a little distracted."

"I'm sure he was fine," said Bones, an ugly look on his face.

"He seemed quieter than usual. Possibly. I don't know him that well yet."

"If you could get a word in edgewise, he was probably quieter n' usual."

"What happened with you two, anyway?"

Bones shrugged. "I'm not sure myself. I freaked out on him, I guess. He was just bein' so mean to Spock—"

"Like you care who's mean to Spock. You're downright rude to him most of the time. May I remind you of the time you called him a green blooded goblin while Ms. Tyvak was right behind you?"

"Okay, sure, that was bad. But he was jus' bein' aggravatin'."

"Leo. It's an aspect of Spock's character that he's aggravating. He can't help it."

"Like hell he can't. Vulcans do that to themselves, y'know. Just because a race can't keep its emotions down doesn't mean they have to. Doesn't mean they _should_. Aw, never mind. Boy, it's hard to keep track of what you're talkin' about."

"For the inexperienced, I guess," said Sulu loftily. Bones aimed a punch at him.

After a while, they spoke again.

"Do you like him?" Sulu asked quietly.

"Jim?" said Bones. He sighed. "I'm not sure."

"If you're not sure, then you don't," said Sulu. "I'm always sure, when I like somebody."

"Lucky you."

"Was it good, at least?"

"What?"

"Being with Jim."

"We didn't have sex," said Bones. "That would've been even worse. We just made out. For _hours_. Shirtless." He smiled reminiscently. "I hadn't done that in ages. Not," he added, suddenly stern, "that I like Jim. At all."

"'Course not," grinned Sulu. "The bell's going to ring soon."

"Alright, let's go in." Bones frowned. "I'm kinda hungry. Got any food?"

"We can stop by the caf," said Sulu. "God bless the munchies."

x

Spock was not as annoyed by Kirk that day. Kirk seemed much more subdued; he only occasionally swooped down to snatch an answer from Spock's grasp, generally appearing contemplative and moody. Spock noted that he did not speak to Bones, who was supposedly his close friend.

After he arrived home the night before, Spock's mother came in to his room and sat down on his bed. Spock looked over from his desk to nod at her.

"Come sit, Spock," she said gently, patting the bed next to her. Obediently, Spock left his books.

Amanda Grayson was a teacher at the elementary school nearby. She was a sweet, wide-eyed woman with pursed lips and an addiction to baking. She seemed very traditional. But she had been a lieutenant commander in Starfleet, and had the scars to show for it. When he was a baby, Spock would trace the gouges on Amanda's lower arms, the traces of an uncharacteristically vicious attack by an Excalbian. Amanda had left Starfleet to raise Spock and teach, leaving her husband Sarek to diplomacy. She cared immensely for her distant son.

"How has school been so far, dear?"

"Quite well, mother," said Spock. "I am benefiting from my classes."

"Good. You never told me how that hovercar meeting went."

"There was an incident during the meeting. While I attempted a test drive of the car, one of the members discovered a missing part. The car would have exploded had he not informed me of the mistake."

"_What?_ Spock, are you okay? You didn't say anything about this."

"I am unharmed, mother. No damage was done and the hovercar has been repaired."

"Well now I just don't know about this hovercar program. How careless of Mr. Pike not to check it over!"

"Montgomery is a perfectly capable engineer, I assure you."

"Who noticed the part was missing?"

"A new member," said Spock evasively, quite sure that if he started talking about Kirk with his mother he would blush. As it was, his eyes flashed to the bookcase he had moved in front of the hole in his wall. He changed the subject clumsily. "I do not recall when father is returning from Vulcan."

"The day after tomorrow. I'll let you get back to your studies. Do you need anything?"

"No, thank you, mother."

Amanda smiled fondly at him. "Let me know if you do, dear. I'll be just in the other room."

x

By physiology, Bones had come down from his high. The remains of six bags of chips, a carton of powdered sugar donuts, a fourth of a watermelon, a box of fries, and three Dr. Peppers were scattered in his backpack. Evidently his munchies were epic.

Bones only had to shake his head a couple of times before he could pay attention to the teacher, little Ms. Havner, whose soothing voice lulled the post-lunch crowd more effectively than a Yardassian sleep-song. Next to him, Chapel looked bored.

"We were supposed to start talking about sexuality today," she whispered when he turned to look at her. "But she's still going on about the damn corpus callosum. We did the brain all last year, can't we move on?"

"I know how you feel," Bones whispered back. "We know too much about the brain, but so little about sexuality. I love hearing what science doesn't know, not what it does know." He was lying quite a lot. He suspected that he wasn't going to be much of an improvisator as a doctor; he was definitely more interested in what science _did_ know. Something in him felt like agreeing with Chapel, like trying to impress her.

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, Ms. Havner turned on the projector. The title slide read, "Human Sexuality." The whole class perked up.

"Ah. Never mind," whispered Bones. Chapel smiled.

"A basic introduction, to begin," squeaked Ms. Havner, eyeing the class suspiciously. "During this unit we will discuss the sexual act in great detail. If any of you are squeamish or choose to behave improperly during this time, I suggest you consider the consequences. You will be receiving participation grades during this unit."

"So she's going to be assessing our sexual prowess?" said Chapel, making a face. "I can't _wait_."

Bones stifled a laugh.

"As all of you are aware, humans are considered an omnisexual species," Ms. Havner said, going to the next slide, which had about ten definitions on it. The class started typing in their notebooks. "While offspring may only be achieved non-medically through heterosexual intercourse, the biological imperative has been found to not differentiate between males and females. It has been theorized that during the middle and late Industrial Revolution, evolution occurred in the direction of central omnisexuality, which allowed humans to transfer their sexual affections to less reproductively compatible partners in order to combat overpopulation. For most of Terran history, humans have viewed themselves as a heterosexual species, despite their obvious omnisexual tendencies. This societal barrier has, thankfully, been broken. While some humans find themselves more homo- or heterosexual, most humans—eighty four percent—say that they are omnisexual, or attracted to all possible genders in basically equal weight. In the past, a more restrictive term was used to represent omnisexuality. Who can tell me what this term is?"

"Bisexuality," said Gaila from the front row.

"Correct," said Ms. Havner. "The term was abandoned in the late twenty first century because it was seen as biased against those individuals without an established gender."

Ms. Havner went to the next slide, eliciting groans from the slower typists. She frowned at the class.

"I will be posting these notes on the Enterprise Database," she said, "but _only_ because this will be an extremely difficult test. Please do not expect this type of thing for the rest of the year. Now, let us continue. The study of human sexuality…"

x

Another hovercar club meeting was held after school in the shop. Scotty had taken to calling it the Hoverclub, and the term had caught on.

Chekov made sure to stand next to Kirk. He wondered what Kirk would think about what Chekov had done last night. Chekov had never masturbated to the thought of another person before. And he'd never lost quite that much control over his own body. He could feel his ears turning slightly red just thinking about it. He shook his head.

"You okay?" said Kirk mildly. Chekov jumped.

"Oh, oh yes, I am fine, thank you."

"Hey," said Kirk, getting a little closer to Chekov. "What are you doing tonight?"

Chekov's mind went entirely blank. "Uh," he said. "I am not sure, James."

"Call me Jim. Listen, I just wanted to—"

"Guys, listen up," said Pike. "After the, er, _event_ last week, I checked over the hovercar. Just so all of you know, it's completely safe now. Unless its pilot—" Pike broke off as Sulu came in to the shop, muttering apologies for being late. "—decides to steer it into a tree, no sudden explosions should occur. Now, the qualifying round is next week. We'll be going up against all of the Hoverclubs in California. The competition is in Riverside." (Kirk's ears perked up; he had lived in Riverside, Iowa.) "We'll have to get there late Thursday night in since the race begins early Friday morning. So yes, you guys get to miss a day of school."

Everyone grinned (except for Spock).

Scotty stepped up. "Ah'd like to talk about our competition for a moment. Our biggest challenger is goin' t' be Pride High on th' other side of our own city. Economy and Valor don't have Hoverclubs of th' same, er, _quality_ as ourselves. Now, Pride is dangerous because it's got a madman at its helm." Scotty cleared his throat and turned to Spock. "D'you mind if ah fill in th' blanks for our newest members?" he asked. Spock's lips went white, but he nodded assent. "Well, 'tis also Pride's first year in competition. They started their club because we started ours. Last year, at State UIL, Spock caught a Pride student sneakin' into th' gradin' room to fix scores. He, well, he overreacted a bit and nerve-pinched the student, a Romulan lass. And the UIL governing body overreacted a bit too, and threw the whole high school out of competition, which allowed us t' sweep. We had twenty-three firs' place finishes last year.

"Now, the leader of this merry band is a Romulan lad named Nero. Ominous, I ken. He's got it out for Spock and for Enterprise. Apparently th' lass was Nero's betrothed. So ah would like t' warn all of you against any contact with Pride High students. They might try t' get you to talk about our strategies. Ah hate to be racist, but be especially aware of any Romulans you encounter, since most of them go t' Pride. So you know, this summer Nero tried to shove Spock off a balcony." Chekov gasped aloud. Everyone else looked angry. "Be warned."

"I think we should move on to the strategizing," said Spock, looking at everyone expectantly. Scotty fetched a map of the track in Riverside. They moved the hovercar out into the open and got down to business.

x

Later that day, Kirk went to the grocery store with his mother. They had no food in the house other than what came in their small emergency synthesizer. Kirk pushed the cart and Winona filled it. As they headed onto the vegetable aisle, Kirk accidentally ran in to a short, kindly-looking woman carrying a basket, knocking her into the shelving.

Kirk hurried forward to help her up. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thanks," said the woman. "Sorry I was in your way."

"No, no, it was all my fault, here, let me help you with that—"

"Really, it's fine," said the woman, smiling at Kirk.

"Sorry about my son," said Winona, appearing from behind the cart. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, _really_, I'm fine," said the woman. She smiled at Winona. "He's a strong boy."

"I know it. Gets into trouble all the time."

"I do not!" protested Kirk. Both women laughed.

"I've got one his age," said the woman. "Doesn't know his own strength. Punched a hole through his wall yesterday and thought I wouldn't notice."

"How perfect! Mothers know _everything_. Jim, honey, go get a roast for tomorrow night, and a package of chicken breast. Now, mine, he has to be told what to do around the house or he'll just go off into his own little world…"

Kirk scowled as he loped off to the meat department. His mother was much too fond of talking about him as if he wasn't there. Near the deli, he spotted Spock sorting through the cheese bin, looking oddly domestic with a shopping bag and a non-collared shirt. Kirk couldn't resist calling out to him.

"Hey, Spock! Fancy meeting you here."

Spock looked momentarily up from the cheese bin and then back down again. "Greetings, James."

"What do you think of my promotion to VP? A beef roast, please," he added to the butcher machine. "Still, I'll bet you end up being a more _logical_ driver."

"No doubt," said Spock, holding a red Wensleydale up to his eye.

Kirk narrowed his eyes. Spock should be responding more.

"You studying for Maru's test?"

"Extensively."

"I bet you beat me on it."

"As do I."

"I'll do my best, though."

"I'm sure you will, James. I must go. It was pleasant to see you." Spock's tone stated differently, however.

"Oh wait, I'm done too," said Kirk, grabbing the finished roast from the butcher and snatching a carton of chicken out of a bin. "What kind of cheese did you get?"

Spock's shoulders had set resignedly. "Brie and blue Pendrashian. Why do you inquire?"

"Just curious. I'm here for meats." He held up the roast and chicken, doing his best to keep in stride with Spock's long legs.

"Meat is an unnecessary and barbaric food that I have never understood the human predisposition towards," said Spock.

"Clearly you've never had a quality filet mignon, rare," said Kirk, grinning. "It melts in your mouth, there's so much blood."

Spock closed his eyes as if in prayer. "That is disgusting, James."

"I try," said Kirk modestly. By now, Kirk had followed Spock to a central aisle, where he spotted Winona, still in conversation with the woman he had accidentally run in to.

"I found the cheese, mother," said Spock, approaching the woman.

_Are you fucking serious_, Kirk thought. _Of course. Of _course. "Uh, hey mom. Got the meat."

Spock stared at him. Kirk tried to smile nicely at him, but the expression appeared on his face as more of an apologetic grimace. "Listen, before you try to punch me or anything, I'd just like to say that I'm really sorry I hit your mom with the shopping cart, I didn't mean to—"

"You _what?_" snapped Spock.

"I think our boys know each other," Amanda whispered to Winona, who was watching them with avid interest.

"One does get that feeling," Winona replied. "But they don't seem to like each other, do they?"

"Oh, I think they do," said Amanda, a slight smile on her lips.

x

The Hoverclub had made plans to join up at the Shore Leave at around nine. Kirk arrived with his hands in his pockets, slightly afraid to be there considering how much Spock and Bones hated him these days. Sure enough, when he saw Bones, he refused to acknowledge Kirk's presence, as he had all day. Kirk sighed and took a seat near the back of the table Scotty and Uhura had claimed. To his surprise, Chekov sat down next to him once more. He saw Sulu's eyes narrow. Oh shit, he didn't want to get involved in this, not when everybody could tell Sulu was so in to Chekov.

Chekov leaned in close to Kirk, who saw Sulu's face go blank out of the corner of his eye. "You wanted to say something to me earlier, James—Jim," he said softly into Kirk's ear.

Kirk couldn't help but shudder a little. Chekov's dirty angel façade was quite compelling.

"Uh, yeah," said Kirk. "It was actually just a warning about Gaila. I figured that since she'd taken me down, you'd be next, and I wanted to make sure she didn't try the Farragon on you, because that's some weird shit, and that's not what you were expecting me to say, was it."

Chekov frowning. "No, it was not. I thought you were interested in me."

"Oh. Well. No offense. But I'm not really your type."

"I do not haf a type, Jim."

"Er, well, I do. And you're really pretty and everything, and don't get me wrong, I'd love to fuck you sometime, but I'm pretty sure I'd get my balls chopped off if I made moves on you."

"I am sorry, what do you mean?"

God, Chekov was even closer now. His sexiness was overpowering. Kirk pulled out of Chekov's sphere, highly uncomfortable. Sulu was openly glaring at him at this point. He wanted to shout, _This isn't my fault! _Clearly karma was kicking in.

"I mean that I really don't think you and I getting together would be a good idea, Pavel."

Chekov stood and approached Kirk, coming to lean over him, cornering him.

"No," said Kirk, standing and putting a hand on Chekov's chest to push him back. Almost immediately, Sulu was next to them, holding Kirk's wrist in a vice-like grip.

"Get away from him," he said coldly to Kirk.

"Hey," said Uhura, leaning around Sulu. "Are you guys okay?"

"No," snapped Sulu. "Jim won't stop harassing Pavel."

"What?! I was _not_ harassing Pavel, if anything he was harassing _me_—"

"As if," snarled Bones, who had also appeared. "You can't even keep off of a sixteen year old? God, what is your problem?"

"This is not my fault!" cried Kirk. "He was _seriously_ hitting on me! Tell them, Pavel!"

"I—I was only responding to your proximity earlier," said Pavel, confused and a little frightened. He moved back next to Kirk, clutching his arm protectively.

"Yeah, okay, you are _so_ not helping," said Kirk, prying Chekov off of him. He spotted Spock behind Bones, Uhura, and Sulu and couldn't help but roll his eyes. Uhura glanced backwards to see who he was looking at. A very still expression covered her face. She grabbed Kirk's arm and dragged him all the way out of the room, down the stairs and outside, where she pushed him against a wall.

"You have made everything _worse_," growled Uhura. "You have got to quit messing with Hikaru like that. I told him what you were doing before Hoverclub today. And you can't just antagonize Spock like that. Tl;dr, you can't just waltz in here and fuck everything up."

"I have done _one_ bad thing," said Kirk angrily, "and that was conning Bones into my bed." Uhura gasped, but Kirk ignored her. "First off, Spock needed to be taken down a notch. Second, _I was not hitting on Pavel_. And third, I did _not_ waltz in here and fuck everything up. Evidently all of you are pretty fucked up on your own. I'm not completely sure why everyone's been so _angry_ lately."

Uhura sighed, backing down. "I'm not angry. I rarely get angry. I'm just telling you so that nobody else has to. Listen, I'm not as mad at you as the others are. And their reasons for being mad are pretty understandable. Spock doesn't like being shown up, and Hikaru's obviously pretty attached to Pavel. And if what you said about Leo is true, well, he just got out of a three year relationship with Jocelyn Darnell, and you shouldn't be playing with him like that."

Kirk lowered his eyes. "Okay. You're right. I'll be nicer. But the Pavel thing? _Not my fault_."

Uhura laughed. "Good luck with that. I still bet Hikaru's going to skin you alive when he gets a chance."

"Dammit. You think?"

"I know. Hikaru is very possessive."

"He's not even dating Pavel!"

"See last comment." Uhura flipped open her communicator. "Spock. Want to tutor me? I'm about ready to get out of here."

"I would enjoy leaving with you," Spock replied. "I will be downstairs momentarily."

Kirk made a face. "That wasn't much of a social gathering."

"I'm sure it'll be better next time. Just… try to talk to Hikaru some time, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks." Kirk smiled at her. "It was nice talking to you, Nyota."

"Yeah, you too. Now quit fucking everything up."

"Can't promise anything."

Spock exited the building. Seeing Kirk, his eyes went cold.

"Are you ready to depart, Nyota?" he asked.

"Yes," said Uhura. "Bye, Jim."

"See you tomorrow, Nyota," said Kirk. He watched the two of them disappear into the dark, wondering what on earth Uhura saw in Spock anyway.

x


	5. Chapter 5: Court Martial

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Five: Court Martial_

x

For the next week, the senior class studied frantically for Mr. Maru's first exam, the evil one Gaila had told Kirk about. The literature for the test consisted of _Oedipus Rex_ and _Antigone._ The class were trying to practically memorize the plays. Spock was doing quite well on this front; he had committed to memory the important passages and was focusing now on minutiae he thought Mr. Maru might ask about.

Kirk, in his haphazard way of studying, simply read the plays twice a day, highlighting things that interested him. They had started school on a Monday; the test was held on the second Wednesday of the year.

As Kirk rode to school that second Wednesday, he reflected on the past week. He definitely liked San Francisco more than Riverside, Iowa. Not only was the city larger and more interesting, the people were better. And he got to make an at least semi-fresh start, although that hadn't gone quite as well as he'd planned. His standing amongst the Hoverclub members had improved slightly as he got nicer to Spock and further away from Chekov (Sulu was even acknowledging his existence now). He'd hung out at the Shore Leave with them a few more times without getting slapped or yelled at or hit on by anyone. He was sort of becoming friends with Uhura. But not all was right with the world. Chekov was still paying more attention to him that he would like, and Bones still wasn't speaking to him. Kirk hadn't really had a chance to talk to Bones about their fight. He'd either been studying or attempting to improve his image, and he didn't think that getting into a yelling match with Bones in front of the others was going to help anything.

But the problem was, he didn't know what to _say_ to Bones. He didn't feel nearly as bad as he knew he should for tricking him into the makeout session; it had just been too much fun for him to regret it. He thought Bones might be legitimately attracted to him, but then he realized that it might be Bones reacting to the first semi-sexual contact he'd had since he'd broken up with Jocelyn. And (Kirk's mind was going at warp speed putting all of this together) since Bones had started dating Jocelyn three and a half years ago, that meant that Bones was only fifteen, and Kirk was willing to bet quite a lot of money that Bones at fifteen wasn't particularly interested in sex. In fact, he'd still been talking with Bones at that point, and no, Bones hadn't so much as kissed anybody yet, because he was still in his "other humans are covered in horrible deadly germs and must not be approached without a biohazard suit" phase, which thankfully he had eventually learned to function with. But then again, before some middle school teacher had accidently slipped Bones a copy of _The Hot Zone_, Bones had really loved playing doctor.

So, unless something happened in the summer between when he and Jocelyn broke up and Kirk arrived, Bones had only ever made out with Jocelyn before this.

Huh, pondered Kirk, no wonder he's freaking out. And then Kirk wondered if Bones and Jocelyn had been having sex. Surely they had. They were in high school. They were human. They were dating. It was practically inevitable.

But, he considered the course he'd surmised the relationship had gone. In the first year, they had been good together, close and strong. In the second year, Jocelyn had lost interest, but Bones hadn't. In the third year, they just coasted, together but apart. And if they were so young during their most passionate time, then, maybe, just maybe, Bones was still a virgin.

If so, then Kirk had to borrow a word from Spock: _Fascinating._

x

Mr. Maru's exams were the stuff of legend. They were basically impossible to cheat on. Mr. Maru was not allowed to festoon his testing room with keyhole cameras, so he took extreme measures to prevent academic dishonesty.

The tests were not given in his regular classroom, but in a lecture hall that differed every year and was not assigned until the night before. Everyone was required to turn in their communicators before the test. They were scanned by metal detectors (a rarely-used right reserved to test-giving teachers) before they entered the room, were assigned styli and answer documents, and received absolutely clean copies of the test. Absolutely no food or drink was allowed in the room. No jackets, no hats, no gloves. Hands, arms, and legs were checked. Bathroom breaks were not allowed.

Kirk felt like he was entering a prison. None of the other students looked too happy either. Mr. Maru stood at the front of the room, glaring at all of them.

"This is more like it," he said once everybody had found his or her assigned seats. "Let's get started."

Kirk was prepared for a difficult test. But he wasn't prepared for such a _useless_ one. The questions were exactly as Gaila had described: _How many letter O's are in the first speech by Oedipus in _Oedipus Rex_? A) 24 B) 41 C) 49 D) 38 E) 34. When the Chorus speaks for the fifth time on page 14 in _Antigone_, what is the second punctuation mark used? A) , B) ; C) – D) ? E) (. _

This is insane, thought Kirk, gaping at the screen. These questions were literally impossible.

He and the rest of the class sweated through the test. People either turned their tests in ten minutes after class had begun or near the very end. Kirk and Spock were some of the last to finish. Outside the room, the survivors were consoling each other.

"God, that was horrible," said Kirk hollowly, exiting with Gaila, who looked positively livid.

"Every year that test pisses me off," she growled. "It does nothing to actually evaluate our intelligence. I feel so helpless while I'm taking it."

"The experience can be educational," said Spock. "I can see what Mr. Maru is attempting to teach us with the exam. We cannot know everything. We cannot always succeed."

Kirk and Gaila just glared at Spock.

x

Mr. Maru posted the results after school. Spock was the only student to receive above a 40 (he got a 42). Most of the class made between a 25 and a 35. Kirk, to his horror, received exactly the class average, a 31. He had never, _ever_ gotten below a 95 on a test before. He stared at the grades for a while, despondent. Nobody was particularly sympathetic, although Scotty patted him kindly on the shoulder.

After everyone else had wandered away, Kirk knocked on Mr. Maru's door. The lights came on and Mr. Maru opened the door a crack, looking suspicious.

"Can I help you?" he asked Kirk.

"I'd like to take the test again," said Kirk.

"That's against school policy," said Mr. Maru. "A final grade's a final grade."

"I'm not even going to try to argue that it's an unfair test," said Kirk. "Which it is. You don't have to give me the grade I get the second time around. I just—I just want to try again. Right now."

Mr. Maru raised his eyebrows. "An interesting request," he said. "Actually, I've been waiting for quite awhile for somebody to ask to retake it. Nobody has. So, I'd love for you to. Come in. And good luck."

x

The next day, a crowd gathered around the grades once more. Kirk, later than usual, hurried up to English amongst even more interested stares than normal. He paused at the edge of the mass of students, confused. Scotty emerged from the crowd, grabbed his arm, and drew him over to the grades.

Wordlessly, Scotty pointed to Kirk's grade, which had been crossed out. "26. Nice try" was written next to it.

"What happened?" Uhura demanded. "Did you try to cheat or something?"

"I retook the test," said Kirk, feeling hollow. "Guess it didn't go too well."

"How can you have retaken it?" said Uhura. "You've already seen the questions."

Spock broke in. "I believe that Mr. Maru composes close to seven hundred questions for this exam and randomly fills each individual test with fifty of those queries. Undoubtedly he made sure James had not seen any of questions on the second test before he gave it to him."

Kirk was thinking. "Where do you suppose he keeps the questions?"

"Excuse me?" said Spock sharply. "James, you cannot be suggesting—"

"I'm just _wondering_," said Kirk lightly, feeling much better as an idea unfolded in his mind. "I would never do anything dishonest." He grinned at the crowd. "You know, I think I'll try to take that test again."

"James, cheating one of the most severely punished crimes a student—"

"I'm not going to cheat, Spock," said Kirk mildly. "I'm just going to take a test."

x

It took some work to convince Mr. Maru to let him take the test a third time, but he managed. Since the Hoverclub was leaving at four thirty to get to Riverside by seven, Kirk took the test during the last part of his study hall period. He came back early, chomping arrogantly on an apple. A fleck of juice flew into Spock's eye as Kirk passed him. Spock sat up, positively glaring at Kirk, who flashed him a brilliant smile.

"That was fun," he said, flopping down into his seat.

Uhura rolled her eyes. "I'm sure it was. Maybe you'll bring up your grade this time, get a 32 or something."

"Oh, I think I did pretty well," said Kirk, mouth full of apple but still managing to look smug. "I studied a bit before I took it. Probably raised my grade quite a lot."

x

It took until fifth period for Mr. Maru to run the test through the grader, and it wasn't until sixth period that he had recovered enough from shock to storm down to economics and slam the door open. The entire class, including Ms. Okogbo, jumped in their seats.

"James Tiberius Kirk," growled Mr. Maru, so furious he ignored Ms. Okogbo's alarmed exclamations. "How the _hell_ did you get a perfect score on this test?"

"Me?" piped Kirk, the picture of innocence. "A perfect score? How surprising!"

"It cannot _possibly_ be surprising to you that you got a hundred on this! You _had_ to have cheated!"

"Oh, I don't think so," said Kirk sweetly. "Surely you recall sitting there and watching me take the entire test. You checked me for clues or answers, took away my jacket, did all of the usual. Looked at my desk. Gave me a stylus. Mr. Maru, I took the test I was given."

"Bull," said Mr. Maru. "You can't have known all of those answers."

"Ask me the questions right now. I'll know the answers."

"Question thirty six," Mr. Maru read off the PADD he was holding. "What proper noun is used in line two hundred and thirty of _Oedipus Rex?_"

"Thrace."

"Twenty one. In line two sixty one of the same, how many punctuations marks are used?"

"One, a comma."

"Forty eight. How many letter A's are used between lines 783 and 801 of _Antigone?_"

"Twenty four."

"How can you _possibly_ know that?"

Kirk shrugged. "I'm really very intelligent."

"You _must, _I do mean absolutely _must_ have cheated."

"I took the test I was given," Kirk repeated.

Mr. Maru was frozen with rage. Kirk watched him impassively.

"Principal's office," he spat. "Right now."

x

Principal Barnett had already heard quite a lot about James Kirk from other teachers, all of it positive, although there was some mention of him being a bit conceited. He did not expect to meet Kirk under such circumstances.

Mr. Maru insisted that Kirk had cheated on the test. Principal Barnett had dealt with Mr. Maru's cheaters before; a number of students had attempted to improve their grades on Maru's exam by academic dishonesty, but none had been so successful, or so discreet. Mr. Maru was forced to admit that he had kept an eye on Kirk the entire time Kirk had taken the test. Kirk enthusiastically denied that he had cheated while taking the test. But Principal Barnett had noticed something strange about Kirk's use of tenses.

"You deny cheating _while_ you were taking the test."

"Yes, sir."

"And you say that you simply took the test you were given. That you knew all of the answers on that version of the test. A version of the test that Mr. Maru had not given you previously."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Kobayashi, I think we have our solution," said Barnett, turning in his chair to look at Mr. Maru. "Mr. Kirk did not cheat _during_ the test. He cheated _before_ the test."

Kirk nodded solemnly. "That I did, sir."

Mr. Maru was bamboozled. "But… how?"

"I was wondering the same thing," said Barnett.

"If the game is up?" said Kirk, looking at them. "I guess it is. Well, I'd heard that Mr. Maru wrote a lot of questions for the test. So I just hacked in to the school's computer system, accessed Mr. Maru's file of questions, deleted fifty, added fifty of my own creation, sorted them in, and sent them to the top of the list to make sure Mr. Maru would assign me those questions."

The men started at Kirk.

"You what?" said Barnett.

"I hacked into the school's computer system, accessed—"

"Okay, that right there," said Barnett. "It's basically impossible to hack into the school's computer system. No—for a student? It _is_ impossible. If you have that depth of knowledge of programming, you shouldn't be in high school."

"That's why I'm graduating early, sir."

"How much time did you have to do this?" Barnett demanded.

"Oh, I wrote the questions during second and third and skipped to the computer lab to do the hacking during fourth," said Kirk. "You can ask my teachers. I was oddly distracted. And the lab monitors were worrying about a strange virus that was attacking the system and ignoring little old me."

"You will not be so flippant about this," Mr. Maru growled. "You will receive a zero for the test grade and be placed on academic suspension."

"I'm not so sure about that," said Barnett calmly. "As the principal, I am in charge of disciplining students. Now, there's nothing I can do about you getting a zero, Mr. Kirk, but if my calculations are correct—and providing you receive straight one hundreds for the rest of the year—your GPA will only be lowered by zero point zero zero zero eight points. Meaning that you would still be ranked first in your class, exactly zero point zero zero zero three points ahead of Mr. Spock. I would like to both put you on and take you off of academic suspension." Barnett pressed a few buttons on the PADD before him. "There. Your time on academic suspension has been registered. Now, report to the computer lab. Ms. Valence is in charge of the computer system here; let her know what you've done and help her figure out how to stop anybody else from doing it." Barnett smiled at Kirk. "I was never very good at discipline. Consider Ms. Valence in charge of your punishment. You will report to her every day until this school has established a truly secure firewall."

Mr. Maru was positively foaming with indignation. Kirk leapt up, saluted and thanked Principal Barnett, and fled, chuckling.

x

Kirk sidled back into class near the end of seventh period. Mr. Gyan had allowed them to work on their homework since eight of the class were going to be gone the next day for the race in Riverside. Kirk got the homework assignment and sat down in the midst of the Hoverclub.

"What th' hell happened back there?" Scotty demanded. "Did you really make a hundred on th' test?"

"Yep," said Kirk. "Except now it's a zero. Evidently Mr. Maru doesn't like cheating."

"Have you been placed on academic suspension?" Spock demanded. "Because if you have, you will not be able to accompany us to Riverside."

"Yeah, I have been. But I got taken off. Barnett was impressed with me, he only entered the suspension on my record."

"He was _impressed_?" said Uhura.

"By my ability to cheat."

"Academic dishonesty is not _impressive_," said Spock loftily. "It is despicable and I refuse to believe that a principal such as Dr. Barnett would allow you to escape unpunished."

"I'm not unpunished. I have to report to Ms. Valence every day until they get the school firewall working and improved again."

"It's broken?" said Chapel.

"I, uh, might have been less than subtle when I hacked into the school's mainframe."

There was a silence.

"You hacked into the school's computer system?" said Sulu, speaking to Kirk for the first time since last Wednesday.

"A little, yeah."

"You cannae have," said Scotty. "'Tis impossible. Ah can't do it. Gaila and Sulu can't do it. Spock's never tried, but ah assume he can't either."

"Of course I would never attempt such an idiotic thing as breaking in to the school's—"

"Shut it, Spock. It's not impossible, guys. It's really not that hard at all, actually." Kirk looked around at them. "Really, it's not. I don't know why everyone's so impressed."

"_When_ did you do this?" asked Sulu.

"Right before lunch," said Kirk.

"You were _in_ third period," said Sulu. "You can't expect us to believe that you did this in the thirty minutes before lunch."

"Guys, seriously, it's not a big deal. Listen, I want to check my answer on number twenty, have any of you—"

"You're on number _twenty_ already?" said Scotty. "Alright, laddie, ah'm beginnin' to think that Mr. Maru's exam might have been good for you. You need t' be taken down a notch."

"I do not! My notches are fine where they are."

The bell rang. Kirk gathered up his things quickly, but was cornered in his desk by Scotty and Spock.

"We'll talk more with you on th' ride," said Scotty almost menacingly, pointing a finger in Kirk's face. Spock, disapproving to the extreme, nodded sharply behind him.

Kirk disentangled himself and rushed home to get his bag, thinking that joining the Hoverclub might not have been a good idea after all.

x

Kirk tried to hide at the back of the transport, but Scotty hunted him down and dragged him to the front. McCoy and Chapel were sitting further back, near Sulu and Chekov. But Uhura, Spock, and Scotty were standing in front of Kirk and staring menacingly down at him. Kirk gulped.

"We have elected to let Spock speak to you about your behavior during Mr. Maru's test," said Uhura coldly. She and Scotty sat down nearby. Pike chose to ignore what was happening. He pulled the transport out of the parking garage and started off down Talon Street towards I-5.

"Let me begin by stating that I know what you feel about the test," said Spock. "You may be skeptical, but I assure you that I had never received a grade lower than a 94 before I started Mr. Maru's class in my freshman year. However, this does not mean that I agree with your decision to cheat. I feel that Mr. Maru was attempting to make a point to his students. All of us expect to receive 6.0's, a college education, a good career, and a long life, among other luxuries. But we will not necessarily be given those things. Our privilege extends to our grades; our parents have influenced our lives enough that most of us are psychologically incapable of doing badly in school or in life without experiencing crippling mental consequences. Mr. Maru is simply helping us by presenting us with a no-win situation."

"There is where you're wrong," said Kirk angrily. "I don't believe in no-win situations. And you may have lived in the lap of luxury all of your life, but I certainly haven't. Maybe you higher class archons get grades and careers and happiness served to you on a silver platter, but just because my mom is in Starfleet doesn't mean I'm a spoiled brat like you. Maru's test was completely unjust. He doesn't get to arbitrarily decide what is fair or not, because then that gives everybody else the excuse to do the same thing. We're trying to rid the universe of no-win situations. Why should anyone let a no-win situation be set up? Surely modern methods of teaching can educate us about the no-win situations we're forced in to without actually sticking us in one."

"Perhaps, but perhaps not. Mr. Maru's test is designed simply to show us that we cannot have everything. It is crafted to inspire fear within us, fear of failure and of the unknown and of losing control, so that we avoid these things and so that if we cannot avoid them we know how to deal with them."

Kirk was starting to look really pissed off. "Listen, Spock, I don't need to know anything else about not being in control. I don't need another damn lesson in fear. I've worked really fucking hard to get to where I am and one bitch of a teacher trying to teach pampered babies a lesson is not going to get in my way."

Spock opened his mouth to speak, but Kirk cut him off, standing.

"No," he said, putting his hand against Spock's throat to stop him from speaking. "You will not say another word to me on this subject. You don't know anything about me. No-win situations do not exist. They may seem like they do, but you always have a choice. There is always a third option, another way out. If you deny this, and find yourself in what seems to be a no-win situation, what will you do? Die? Fail? Or cheat, just to survive? Live or succeed when you don't deserve to? I know what the other options are, and I reject them. You can get as mad at me as you want to about cheating on that test, but you cannot tell me that it was the wrong thing to do. People are supposed to stand up for what's right, even if they go about it in the wrong way."

Kirk finished. His hand was still on Spock's throat. He could feel the blood pulsing under Spock's skin. His flesh was burning hot. Spock's expression seemed loose, as if he were having a difficult time concentrating. Slowly, Kirk removed his hand, his fingers cooling, the pulse gone. The boys stared at each other for a moment.

"Your argument is logical," said Spock hoarsely. "I will not speak to you on the subject again." With that, he sat heavily on the seat next to him.

Kirk removed himself to his seat in the back of the bus. When he was sure Spock wasn't looking, he wiped his hand on his shirt, disgusted.

Suddenly Bones was settling down next to him with the strangest expression on his face.

"Listen, Jim," said Bones, staring at his knees, "I don't know how to—well, I'm not sure—aw, hell, I'm sorry, alright?"

"It's fine, Bones," said Kirk, throwing his arm around him. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have mistreated you like that."

"Naw, it was my fault for not keepin' you in line. And you're right, I did you wrong when I ran off with Jocelyn an' ignored you. Are we good?"

"We're good," said Kirk. He grinned at Bones. "Spock can be a real pointy-eared bastard, can't he?" he said to Bones.

"Yeah," said Bones, laughing. "But I like him." He looked out the window. "Looks like we're almost to Riverside."

"Yup, pretty close," said Kirk, peering out too. "Wonder what hotel Pike will have chosen for us."

_Oh. Right_, thought Bones. _Sleeping arrangements. Well, this should be fun._

x


	6. Chapter 6: A Piece of the Action

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Six: A Piece of the Action_

x

The transport slowed to a halt; Pike had just exited off of I-5 and hit a stoplight. They were close to Riverside now. Kirk watched the other transports and cars outside the window speeding along the highway at hundreds of miles per hour. Transports and cars were magnetized to rails installed along the highways, meaning that they could travel at any speed safely and without steering. Once you got off the highways, the rails disappeared. The skill roads, as the roads without rails were called, were still protected by magnetic lanes that did not allow vehicles to hit each other.

They reached Riverside fifteen minutes later. It was an old city, founded in the nineteenth century. A few 20th century buildings still remained in the city center, surrounded by younger and crisper structures. The hotel Pike had booked was in the Canyon Crest neighborhood, near one of the schools they would be competing against. Pike parked the transport in the hotel parking lot and stood to address them.

"After we check in and drop our bags off, we'll go get some food and then come back. Over dinner and afterwards we'll need to discuss our plan of action."

The hotel, the Gatecrest, was an original 21th century building, complete with a brick exterior. The décor inside was equally ancient. The lamps all had light bulbs in them, and the carpet on the floor was rough and fuzzy. Pike got their room chips and turned to his milling students.

"Four rooms," he said, holding up nine chips, one for each of them. "One for me, one for the girls. You boys can divide yourselves into two groups of three. Go ahead, I need to give you your chips."

Chekov, a determined expression on his face, started towards Kirk, who backed up hurriedly and latched himself onto Bones and Spock. "I'm with them," he said. Chekov looked disappointed, Sulu looked relieved, and Scotty looked positively alarmed.

"Ach, well," said Scotty, eyeing Sulu and Chekov gingerly. "Ah suppose ah'll room with these laddies."

Pike handed out the cards wordlessly. Uhura and Chapel grinned at each other. All of the boys looked uncomfortable, except for Spock, who looked slightly confused.

The rooms were all in a row. Kirk unlocked his door quickly and bustled inside, chivvying Spock and Bones in and locking the door behind them. He fell against the wall, relieved.

"Close call," said Bones, grinning. "Be a shame for Sulu to have to cut your heart out, Jim."

"I do not understand," said Spock, his eyebrows raised. "What has James done to offend Hikaru?"

"What _hasn't_ he done," chuckled Bones. "Hikaru's madly in love with Pavel, but Pavel seems to prefer Jim. If Jim thought Hikaru was an option, I'm sure this could all be straightened out ('scuze the pun), but—"

"Hikaru really doesn't seem like the threesome type," said Kirk, peering through the peephole. "Good idea, though. I'll keep it in mind."

"According to scientific journals, polyamory is defined as a physical and emotional bond shared equally between three people; when these bonds are not equal—"

"Yes, Spock, thank you," said Bones. "I was talkin' more about a _ménage a trois_, but hey, it's just semantics."

"I still do not—"

"Don't worry about it," Kirk interrupted. "How much time do you think we have?"

"Mr. Pike requested our presence in the lobby in exactly twenty seven point two four minutes."

"Awesome." Kirk threw himself onto the only bed in the room, then looked around. "Why the hell is there just one of these?"

"Pull-out couch," grunted Bones, flicking through a copy of _The_ _Lancet_ on his PADD.

"Ah," said Kirk. He glanced at Spock, who was studiously unpacking his bag. "Where do you want to sleep, Spock?"

Bones didn't know what was happening until it was too late.

"I would prefer the pull-out couch, James," said Spock. "I would rather not share a bed with either of you, no offense meant to Leonard."

Kirk caught the insult, but ignored it to grin widely at Bones, who was lowering his PADD with a horrified look on his face. "Wait just a second there, Spock," he said. "I'm not sleepin' with Jim."

"Again," coughed Kirk.

"I will pay you _good money_ to take the bed," said Bones desperately. "Hundreds of credits. Maybe thousands."

Spock looked concerned. He hesitated.

"Aw, come on, Bones," whined Kirk. "You'll be cold at night without a warm body to curl up to."

"_Tens_ of thousands, Spock. _Hundreds_."

Spock felt the tips of his ears turn slightly green. He would never have offered to sleep in the same bed as Kirk on his own, but Bones was asking him to. He'd been trying to avoid temptation, but—but this was too good of an opportunity to resist. As the Vulcan in him gave up, the human in him positively sparked with excitement.

"Fine, Leonard. You may have the couch."

"I will worship at your feet. Want anythin'? I can fetch it."

"I require nothing at the current time, but thank you for your offer."

"Aww, you're no fun," said Kirk, wrinkling his nose at Spock. Then his expression changed. "Well, maybe not."

"I fail to understand your meaning," said Spock, even though he completely understood Kirk's meaning, and could feel his ears getting greener.

"Ignore him," said Bones, who had turned back to his PADD. "He's just bein' a perv, as usual." He added to Kirk, "Now remember, don't go molestin' Spock unless he wants it, alright? So basically, don't go molsetin' Spock."

Spock was utterly silent. He could feel Kirk's eyes on his back. He finished unpacking his bag and turned to sit on the couch, bringing a textbook with him. He glanced over at the bed. Kirk was still watching him.

Spock gave him his coldest stare. When Kirk's expression lightened and he looked away, Spock gulped hugely and tried to concentrate on his textbook.

Kirk, no matter how much Spock irritated him, had gotten used to having him around to bother. It occurred to him that he could discomfort Spock even more by trying to emotionally destabilize him in Kirk's own special way—the way that involved sharing a bed. He knew he was being mean, but he didn't much care; he was having a difficult time feeling the connection with Spock that he felt with everybody else in the Hoverclub. Still, he knew he felt _something_ for the boy other than amusement, even if he wasn't sure what. He passed it off as fleeting and connected to hormones, which were untrustworthy damn things anyway.

x

Scotty didn't even enter the room with Sulu and Chekov. He knocked frantically on the girls' door.

"_Please_ can ah sleep here tonight," he said when Uhura opened the door.

"Oh, I don't know," said Uhura, pursing her lips. "I'm pretty sure it's against school rules to mix sexes in hotel rooms."

"Listen, ah dunnae think you understand, lass. Ah _will_ be sleepin' in your room tonight."

Uhura laughed. "I was kidding, Monty. C'mon in."

Chapel was brushing her teeth in the bathroom. She waved at Scotty. "Ah'll sleep over here on th' sofa," Scotty muttered, dumping his bag there. "If Pike finds out and tries t' put me back in their room, ah'll just—sleep in th' lobby or somethin'."

"Basically," said Uhura. She sighed, flopping down on the bed. "I'm all envious of Leo and Jim."

"Spock, huh?"

"Yeah. How great of an opportunity is this? A _hotel_, for God's sake. This couldn't be better if I was in a cave with hypothermia and he had to use his sexy Vulcan body heat to keep me warm."

"Except for a minor detail. You're not in his room."

"Like you said, a minor detail. I'll come up with something."

x

In Sulu and Chekov's room, Chekov had just announced that he was going to take a shower before dinner.

Sulu nearly fainted right then and there.

"I'll be quick," promised Chekov, pulling his shirt over his head.

Sulu had to sit down on the bed. _Did that just happen? Holy fuck, am I really looking at Chekov's naked torso?_

Chekov bent down to get his shampoo out of his suitcase. His abs flexed.

_Yes. Yes I am. Oh wow. Oh just wow._

Chekov disappeared into the bathroom. Sulu listened closely to clothes hitting the floor. As soon as Chekov turned the shower on, he flipped open his communicator.

"Uhura," he hissed. "Pavel is _showering._ I'm going to _die_."

"Oh shit, really?" she said. "Congratulations, man. What are you going to do when he gets out of the shower and walks into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist? Have I mentioned that he'll be dripping wet?"

"Like I said, I will _die_. I will sit here and I will die of happiness and joy and rainbows and sexiness. Oh and tell Monty I love him."

"Anytime you need me t' leave a room, ah'd be glad. 'Tis quite easy," he heard Scotty call.

When Chekov did emerge from the bathroom, he was fully clothed, but his hair was damp. Sulu had done his best to compose himself into a natural position, but Chekov shot him a worried look.

"Are you feeling okay, Hikaru?" he asked.

"'M fine," said Sulu, tight-lipped. "Dinner's soon. You ready to go?"

"Yes, yes, I am wery near to ready to go," said Chekov. "I—oh."

Sulu looked over. Chekov was holding up a pair of slim black briefs and staring from them to his jeans.

"Oh," said Chekov again. "I have forgotten to put these on." He returned to the bathroom.

Sulu fell back on the bed and gave thanks to all of the gods he could think of.

x

Dinner was fraught with tension. Spock, uncomfortable around Kirk once more, had elected to sit next to Uhura, who was doing her best to entertain him. Chapel had chosen a seat that accidentally separated Sulu and Chekov. And Chekov had sat down next to Kirk, who was leaning into Bones, who was trying to ignore Kirk's body heat.

Only Scotty looked utterly unconcerned. He, Pike, and Spock discussed the race with minimal input from Kirk and Sulu, who were both doing their best to ignore Chekov.

The meal could not end fast enough. They had done enough planning: Spock knew the layout of the racecourse perfectly well, as did Kirk (who, as VP, would pilot if something happened to Spock). The final touches to be put on the hovercar could be done the next morning by Scotty and Sulu.

"You guys seem extraneous," said Kirk, addressing Uhura, Bones, and Chapel.

"We helped put it together this summer," said Chapel. "We worked on the blueprint and the design. If Scotty needs us to help with maintenance, we'll be there. We're not totally useless."

"Shocking," said Kirk.

Uhura rolled her eyes at him. Chapel smiled. Bones growled.

When they got back to the hotel, Pike let everyone head back to their rooms. Spock, being Spock, still had questions for Pike, so the two of them stayed in the lobby, which meant that Scotty didn't have to pretend to go into Sulu and Chekov's room.

In Kirk's room, Bones had taken over the bed. He was laying on his back, holding his PADD above his head, still reading medical journals.

"What's up?" said Kirk, bounding onto the bed like a puppy.

"Great article on mental retardation," said Bones. "I quote, 'Test Subject Kirk has greatly advanced our understandin' of true stupidity.'"

"I live to serve." He put a hand on Bones's arm. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," snapped Bones.

"You don't seem fine," said Kirk. Bones heard something different in his tone. The kid actually sounded concerned.

"Well…" said Bones, turning off his PADD. He rolled over to look at Kirk. "I just—I'm worried."

"About what?"

"I'm not sure," said Bones. "I have a bad feelin'." He shook his head as if to dislodge the thought.

"I'm glad we're speaking," said Kirk softly.

"Me too," said Bones.

They looked at each other.

In a split second, something clicked in Bones's mind. The other night—the tension leaving him—Kirk's body, muscular and gentle, moving against his.

Bones opened his mouth.

"What?" said Kirk.

"You drive me _mad_," said Bones, and kissed him.

It was a hard kiss. Kirk found himself pressed deep into the bed, Bones having straddled him. Oh, thought Kirk, this was very, very nice. Bones's tongue parted his lips and covered his mouth. He bit Bones's tongue in reply and Bones actually _moaned_ and pressed him down harder.

Bones pulled back suddenly. Kirk realized that one of Bones's hands had both of Kirk's wrists above his head. The other hand was holding Kirk's cheek, a thumb running softly beneath his eye.

"I don't _like_ you," said Bones gruffly. "I just like kissin' you."

"Fine by me," said Kirk, and strained upwards, trying to reach Bones's lips.

"Now wait a sec. Don't you think we should set some ground rules?"

"Right _now_? You're on _top_ of me. I'm not really interested in rules."

"You're such a slut," said Bones almost admiringly. "No sex, okay? By which I mean, no sexual contact."

"Okay, anything, just get your head back down here."

"Hm," said Bones, stroking his chin with his free hand. "Could it be that James Kirk doesn't like to be kept waitin'?"

Kirk struggled against him. Bones found this extremely sexy.

"I'll take my own sweet time," Bones whispered into Kirk's ear. He bit Kirk's earlobe. Kirk gasped as Bones began to work his way down Kirk's neck. Kirk struggled a bit more, but this only made Bones go slower. It was driving Kirk insane. He wanted Bones's mouth on his, right now.

But no, Bones was taking off Kirk's shirt. He tried to grab Bones's face, but Bones held him down again, trailing his tongue across Kirk's shivering chest as Kirk panted.

"Fuck, _please_," whispered Kirk, eyes tight shut.

"What's that?" Bones's voice was heavy and hot in his ear.

"_Please_, Bones. Kiss me. _Please_."

"Mmm. I like you askin'."

"You—_sadist_! God, I need your mouth. Give it to me."

"Tellin' isn't askin'."

"_Agh!_ Dammit, Bones, _please_, oh God _please_—"

Bones silenced him. They moved luxuriously against each other, each devouring the other's mouth. Kirk sucked on Bones's lips; Bones slipped his tongue over Kirk's teeth. Kirk kept struggling, kept pleading whenever Bones would come up for air.

Finally Bones rolled off of Kirk, wiping his mouth. He was trembling from the effort of holding Kirk down for so long.

Kirk rolled over and stared at him, totally limp.

"Fwah," he exhaled.

"Yup," agreed Bones, breathing deeply.

They lay there for a while.

Then Bones leaned over and kissed Kirk lightly. "Thanks," he said, voice rough.

"Oh, anytime," said Kirk, still flushed. "You uh, you take out that sexual tension whenever you need. I'm right here. I'm definitely at your service. Are you _sure_ you don't want to have sex?"

"Positive," said Bones, who had gotten up to get some water. "It'd end badly."

"Why do you say that?"

Bones shrugged. "Just would." He handed Kirk his water. "I can get you some more if you need it."

"No, thanks," said Kirk, taking a sip. "Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Did you and Jocelyn—did you two have sex?"

Bones stared at him.

"Why would you ask that?" he said slowly.

Kirk didn't know how to reply. "Uh, well, I was just wondering, I didn't think—"

"Of _course_ we were havin' sex," said Bones. "Are you that idiotic?"

"Oh," said Kirk, relieved. "Okay."

"What, did you think we _weren't_?"

"Well, yeah, a little," said Kirk defensively. "I mean, you were such a germaphobe when you started dating her."

"Jim, she had breasts and a vagina and was willin' to use 'em. I got over germs pretty damn quickly."

Kirk huffed. "I didn't _know_, okay?"

"Okay," said Bones, grinning. "Want to play cards 'till Spock gets back?"

Kirk sat up and pulled on his shirt. "Sure."

Bones won every game.

x


	7. Chapter 7: The Way to Eden

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Seven: The Way to Eden_

x

Sulu and Chekov were talking about math.

They were sprawled out on the single hotel bed with their homework before them. They had nearly finished, but had been sidetracked by a conversation about the Seven Bridges of Königsberg. Chekov was happy to move beyond the math and tell Sulu all about Königsberg, which was now Kaliningrad. Evidently he had family there. Sulu grinned; Chekov's postulation that Russians established all of mathematics was absolutely adorable.

Chekov enjoyed talking to Sulu. He was a nice boy, very interested in him, very helpful. He noticed that Sulu was always looking out for him, although he objected to what Sulu thought of Kirk—Kirk was really a very sweet boy. And very beautiful. He did not know why Kirk was not interested in him. He knew Kirk could not be heterosexual—he had already heard rumors about Kirk and Bones. He wondered if he was doing something wrong. Maybe Kirk preferred a more subtle touch. Then again, Chekov had never been able to tell when people liked him. He had known people who he thought he was friends with, but they had turned out to only tolerate him so that they could copy his homework. And there had been people who seemed to hate him and then asked him out. He knew that he was not a very good judge of personalities.

But Sulu he was sure about. Sulu was a loyal friend, kind and sweet, always on hand. They had already played a couple of games of 3-D chess at Chekov's house. Chekov knew Sulu was very intelligent, and a brilliant pilot—he was already teaching classes at the local airport. But Sulu had a hard time thinking in two dimensions, which was why he was not the pilot of the _Enterprise_.

They talked for hours. Sulu forgot about his crush; he simply spoke and listened, thought and replied. They had changed into pajamas earlier. Now, they were curled up on the bed, whispering conspiratorially about secrets and past lives. Chekov had the sweetest laugh, even though it was slightly sardonic. There was something very sincere about it, but also very self-aware. Chekov seemed quite self-aware, now that Sulu thought about it. He was constantly commenting on his own mistakes or opinions, not in a selfish way, but as if he were being apologetic. Chekov noticed how confident Sulu was, and how much energy he had, but at the same time, how laid-back he seemed; as if motion could spring from him in one controlled movement, smooth and assured. He always seemed to know just what to do or say; he never hesitated with his words or misspoke.

They got sleepy. Their voices slowed. Chekov instinctively moved towards Sulu, towards heat. Sulu drew the blankets up over them, hugging Chekov close, his nose buried in the younger man's hair. Chekov nuzzled Sulu's collarbone with his forehead, his hand grasping the front of Sulu's shirt. They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, and their long dreams continued the conversation.

x

In Uhura and Chapel's room, the party had just begun.

Scotty had invited Kirk and Bones over. (Everyone felt it was a good idea to leave Sulu and Chekov to it, whatever _it_ was.) Spock had been included in the invite, but he was more interested in homework than social interaction, which surprised nobody. Kirk and Bones promised not to stay for long, but minutes turned into hours, the time flowing by on Scotty's stash of illegal scotch. Soon they were playing Spin the Bottle with Chapel's communicator. Everybody got a taste of everybody else, Kirk particularly relishing the time he spent with Uhura's tongue in his mouth. ("This the type of team bonden—bunding—stuff we should do to start every meeting," he hiccupped to Bones at one point.) None of them got too drunk, but words were slurred and laughter was contagious. Scotty and Chapel had more of a tolerance for alcohol than the rest of them, so it was Chapel who maneuvered Kirk and Bones back to their room while Scotty tucked a tipsy Uhura into her bed.

Chapel, Kirk, and Bones whispered "SSH" at each other for a while outside Kirk's door while Kirk fumbled for his room chip. Bones couldn't help but kiss Chapel goodnight, but Kirk spoiled it by doing the same. Bones slapped him, or tried to, but missed and nearly fell over. In between giggles and sushes Chapel got them inside their room.

Spock looked up, having heard the commotion outside. He pushed his glasses up and leaned over to see Kirk trip magnificently over Bones's foot. Bones found this hilarious and laughed for about five minutes. Kirk seemed to be fascinated by the floor.

"Carpet," he muttered, poking the stuff with an unsteady forefinger. "Weird and fuzzy. Who came up with it. Dunno."

Spock sighed and moved his study material off of the coffee table. Glancing back over at Bones, who was still giggling, he decided to go ahead and make up the pull-out couch.

"Gotta bed," said Bones, grabbing his toothbrush and pj's out of his bag and swaying into the bathroom. Kirk hauled himself off the floor and watched Spock turn down the sheets on the bed.

"You sleeping now, Spock?" he asked.

"Yes, I thought I should rest for a healthy amount of time before the race tomorrow," said Spock. He was already wearing pajamas. "Do you planning on sleeping soon?"

"Oh yes, very soon, just waiting for Bones to get out of there. Gotta brush my teeth. And wash my face. Can go ahead and change, I guess."

And he pulled off his shirt.

Spock felt his whole body flush green. He looked away, searching for somewhere to stare at. There was the noise of a zipper. Kirk had just taken off his pants.

Spock couldn't help it. He looked.

Kirk was stepping into his pajama bottoms. He was wearing long boxers of an oddly solemn dark blue. There was a large bruise high on his left pectoral and a smaller one on his collarbone. Spock felt his breath catch—what had happened to him?

Kirk glanced up to see Spock staring. He grinned. "Like what you see?" he said, his voice rich with drink.

Spock looked away with some difficulty. "I fail to understand your query."

"I'm sure you do," said Kirk, voice muffled as he pulled a thin white t-shirt over his head. Bones banged out of the bathroom, saw that his bed was made up, dropped his toothbrush in his bag and collapsed on the couch. He was snoring lightly in seconds.

"Attractive," joked Kirk. Spock ignored him.

Kirk felt better after he splashed water on his face. The world seemed slightly clearer. The sharp feel of the toothbrush bristles against his gums revived him.

Spock settled himself nervously in the third of the bed furthest from the bathroom. He tucked the sheets around himself and turned his back to the inside of the bed. He didn't know what to do, what he wanted. He liked Uhura. He didn't like Kirk. He didn't like this alcohol-soaked barbarian who could show him up in differential calculus and lived to torment him.

The bathroom door closed. He heard soft footsteps, felt the weight of another body settle into the bed.

"Lights," said Kirk. The room went dark.

Spock realized how loud his breathing was. He tried to remain absolutely still. Kirk thrashed around a bit and finally seemed to find a comfortable spot.

"Hey, Spock," said Kirk quietly. "You ever gotten drunk?"

"I do not drink," Spock replied shortly.

"You should, some time," said Kirk. "It makes you feel—warm, and light."

"My species has a high specific body temperature. I am already quite warm."

Kirk laughed. "Do _you_ not drink, or do Vulcans not drink?"

"Both," said Spock. "We ferment port only to sell off-planet. We have no tolerance for the stuff."

"Fascinating," said Kirk quietly. Spock turned in bed to glare at him. The light through the window was dim, but he could clearly see the sparkle of Kirk's eye.

"Do not mock me," said Spock, his voice cold.

"I would not dare," said Kirk solemnly. "You mock yourself well enough."

"Excuse me, James?"

"Oh, nothing," said Kirk. "You just seem like a caricature most of the time. You're trying too hard to be Vulcan. It's obvious that you're just a human pretending to be a Vulcan."

Kirk had been curious about Spock's emotions ever since Amanda had mentioned that Spock had punched a hole in his wall the day Kirk had antagonized him at school. He waited for Spock to answer, wondering what he was going to say.

But Spock was not going to fall for that.

"My nationality is none of your concern." There was hurt in his voice. "I will be what I _am_, not what I _seem_ to be to ignorant observers."

Suddenly Kirk felt bad. He remembered what Bones and Uhura had said about being nicer to Spock. He reached across the bed and put a hand on Spock's shoulder.

To his surprise, Spock grasped his wrist tightly. He tried to pull away, but Spock would not let go.

"I'm sorry," Kirk said.

Spock shook his head. "It is nothing. I am not offended."

"I _am_ sorry," insisted Kirk, scooting. "I shouldn't have said that. I was just trying to get a rise out of you."

Spock, who had been monitoring his own physical arousal, raised an eyebrow, but Kirk could not see that.

"Can I ask you something else?" said Kirk.

"What?"

"Can I have my hand back?"

"Oh. Yes. Of course. Forgive me."

Spock let go of Kirk's wrist. They were quiet.

There was something about hotels. The transient feeling you got from doing something so intimate—sleeping—in a room meant for other people. Or the glare of unnatural light through the curtains, so unlike the light at home. Maybe the high comfort of the bedding, the way the strange pillows engulfed you. The unfamiliar sweep of cool air. The room felt like change, like a neutral place to start over after a failure, or to regroup when you were tired.

"One more question," said Kirk quickly, before he could change his mind. He had no idea what had come over him. "Have you ever kissed anybody?"

For a while, Spock did not reply.

"Yes," he said, his voice cracking. "Yes I have, James."

It was the _James_ that did it.

"Spock," Kirk whispered, not sure why he was saying it, but knowing what he said was true. "I want you."

Spock's breath caught. Blindly he moved towards the center of the bed, feeling the sheets slide over him like water. Kirk's hands grasped his, his feet kicked Kirk's feet, they were against each other, pressing, Spock's nose colliding with Kirk's chin, readjusting—_kissing_.

Oh, god, the taste of him, Spock thought. Old alcohol and mint and _Kirk_. He ran his hot hands over Kirk's cooler body, feeling the heft of his muscles, the give in his side, the small hairs covering his back under his shirt, the taper of his spine. Kirk was unbuttoning Spock's shirt, trailing kisses down his chest. Spock tried not to cry out.

The world shuddered and spun and melted and Spock jerked involuntarily. Beside him, Kirk made a small, sleepy noise, huffed, and pulled more of the sheets over to his side.

Spock sat up. Kirk was not kissing him. Kirk was fast asleep on his side of the bed, his arms wrapped around a pillow, snoring gently. That—that must have been a dream, thought Spock frantically. When had he fallen asleep? Had they talked at all? He couldn't remember. But—was it a dream? He thought he still tasted Kirk in his mouth. No, that was just—that had to just be part of the illusion. It _had_ been a dream. All of it had been a dream.

He fell back against the pillows, feeling close to tears. It had been so vivid. The wrinkles in Kirk's lips, the texture of his tongue, the taste of him—they were all so vivid. They were all so vivid. They were all so sharp in his mind, but they were fading, because Spock was falling asleep again, spiraling down into deeper dreams.

x

Spock got up when his alarm went off. By the time he was finished showering, Kirk and Bones were awake and grumbling about their headaches. Spock pushed the memory of his dream into the back of his mind and compelled his roommates to get ready faster.

Kirk figured that the alcohol had impaired his memory. There was no way he had made out with Spock last night, it must have been a dream closely tied to his conscious mind. He made no mention of it to Spock; why should he? Spock wasn't monitoring his subconscious.

In truth, their dream was not a dream. They had kissed, they had explored each other, and they had enjoyed each other, but somehow what had come out had gone back in, had returned to be locked up in tight boxes deep inside their hearts, deepest of all inside Kirk's, who thought that the dream was just a strange trip of his mind, and even when he thought about it, really didn't find Spock attractive at all.

x


	8. Chapter 8: The Corbomite Maneuver

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Eight: The Corbomite Maneuver_

x

Let us set the scene.

At the University of California at Riverside, there is a racetrack fifteen miles long. It winds in and out of thin forest and academic buildings. The track itself is closely-cropped grass, cut low by sheep and the occasional mower. There is no grandstand, no announcer's booth. Sports these days run without commentary, and the fans are trusted not to wander onto the track. Well, not trusted entirely—an invisible force field surrounds the course, with stakes spray-painted white to mark its boundaries.

This is the first of six races to be run in the California High School Hovercraft Competition. One hundred and six schools across the state have entered and their representatives are here, all of them and their clubs, fifteen hundred students and teachers, divided into little roped off sections of frantic people surrounding shining hovercars.

But the Enterprise High School Hoverclub is not frantic.

There wasn't much left to be done to the _Enterprise_. Scotty and Spock went over its systems once more before Spock zipped up his flight jacket and pulled down his helmet and goggles. The _Enterprise_ had been painted at last. Its dull gray hull didn't stand out, unlike the flashy colors around them. It could slip unnoticed through crowds of other hovercars, seeming like nothing special. But it was one of the smallest, most compact cars there; its cushion was tiny and its thrusters were sleek and obviously well designed.

Kirk was in the pilot's seat, re-checking the controls. Spock leaned in next to him, trying not to be aware of their proximity.

"Are all systems operational?"

"Checks out great." Kirk hauled himself out of the cockpit, brushing against Spock's chest as his feet landed on the ground. "She's all yours."

"Thank you," said Spock, thankful that his helmet covered his green-tinged ears.

The race official's voice sounded over the PA system. "Would the A through G schools please make their way towards the starting line, pilots in hovers, sponsors leading and members following."

Spock settled down into the cockpit. The controls were simple buttons, wheels, and switches. Scotty was used to putting together a tactile surface. While some of the nicer hovercars had touch screens, the _Enterprise_ had a hands-on interface.

Spock depressed the three buttons that would start the hovercar. It purred to life, its thrusters burning bright blue. The cushion inflated and the _Enterprise_ rose off of the ground.

Scotty beamed like a proud father. Bones slapped him on the back. Pike moved to the nose of the _Enterprise_ and started towards the racecourse.

The club members at the back made sure to keep well away from the flaming tailpipes. Scotty was tapping at a PADD with a sensor on the back of it.

"What's that?" said Bones.

"A display ah didnae have time t' add," said Scotty. "It shows handlin' power. Ah forgot about it when ah firs' installed th' screens, and then ah would have had t' rewire everythin' t' put it in. So we'll be keepin' up with Spock by communicator." He nodded to the headset on Uhura's ear.

"This sounds _awfully_ like foreshadowing," said Kirk, leaning over. "You sure the communicator'll work on the track?"

"Positive. Ah've hooked into the UC Riverside system. We're allowed t' in th' racin' rules. Lots o' teams keep all their displays off-car so they can lighten th' load, but that puts more pressure on th' team. Ah figure Spock's more'n up t' th' task of keepin' an eye on everythin'."

Chapel spotted Ayel, the VP of the Pride High team, walking their way. He was carrying a box towards the race central cortex where the feeds were streamed and stats were kept on the cars. She tapped Sulu on the shoulder and pointed Ayel out to him.

"Where do you think he's going?"

"Dunno. Surely they're not going to try to cheat again."

"You'd hope not. They can't always expect to win on deviousness alone."

At the starting line, Spock maneuvered the _Enterprise_ into position. Everybody shook his hand as they left for the edge of the track, where they would watch the race on their viewscreens. Uhura leaned down and kissed his cheek when she wished him luck. Spock's ears stayed bright green.

"Testing," she said, when they had reached the viewing area. Each school had a special screen set up. They were at the highest land near the track. They could see some of the race, if they craned their necks, but half of the track was hidden behind trees.

"_Enterprise_ here. Communication is check."

The hovercars had lined up in alphabetical order by school. Ten crafts would begin the race every ten seconds, giving the cars at the back a total of one hundred and twenty seconds of stagger. The _Enterprise_ was leaving in the third group. The _Narada_, Pride's ship, was leaving in the seventh.

In the cockpit, Spock wrapped his hands around the wheel. He checked the four viewscreens—left, right, back, top—and glanced out the front window. Fuel connected. Hydrogen ready to flood the engine as soon as his group was given the go.

"Check," he said into his mike.

"Acknowledged," said the race official on the other end. After about thirty seconds, the official requested check from three more vehicles. One had to drop out; something had happened to its thrusters. Spock switched over to the private channel. "_Enterprise_ to base. Check completed."

"Acknowledged," Uhura replied. "Stand by for handling reading. Given every two minutes. Reading positive; full power."

"Received."

One hundred and five cars, burning hot. Spock's fingers twitched on the wheel. He was steel. He was ready.

"Group one in three. Two. One."

Roars as the first ten cars took off. Their dust blasted across the windows of the hovers behind them.

"Group two in three. Two. One."

The cars directly in front of the _Enterprise_ sped onto the track.

"Group three in three. Two. One."

Spock was slammed back in his seat as he pressed the accelerator, reaching four hundred miles per hour within seconds. He moved immediately to the front of his group. The first part of the track was relatively smooth; he tried not to maneuver in order to keep up his speed. He approached the back of the second pack slowly, thinking. As long as he stayed ahead in _his_ group, he was golden. Fifty ships would qualify for the next round, knocking out a little more than half the field. He decided not to risk passing the second group unless something unexpected occurred.

Which it did.

One of the hovercrafts behind Spock, the _Constellation_, put on a burst of speed, rocketing past Spock. Spock could see no logical reason why the pilot had done this; the _Constellation_ had been second in the group, in a steady thirtieth place. He twitched the controls a few meters to the left to make some room between the _Enterprise_ and the _Constellation_. But the pilot of the _Constellation _seemed to have other ideas. He closed on the _Enterprise_.

Spock applied the brake, dropping behind the _Constellation_. He was still ahead of the rest of his group. He sped up, now passing the rogue ship, and pushed his engines until he was at the back of the second group again. The _Constellation_ was following him closely. Worried that the pilot might attempt sabotage, Spock nudged his way into the second group.

They were coming to the hilly area of the course.

"Base to _Enterprise_. Handling conditions normal."

"Received," said Spock. He couldn't believe the race had been going for two minutes. The final group had left the track only a minute ago.

One of his screens was hooked to the race central cortex. It showed him his exact position. Currently he was in tenth place. The _Narada_, Pride High's entry according to the readout, was in fifth, which meant that it had probably passed at least two groups already, and was close behind him. He wove through the second group, keeping a safe distance from the other ships. The ground was beginning to get uneven; the hills were increasing in size. He had left the erratic _Constellation_ behind and was near the front of the second group.

The _Narada_ moved to fourth, then third. Spock wished they were provided a map instead of numbers. He didn't know _where_ the _Narada_ was, only that it was getting closer.

He pushed the accelerator, leaping to five hundred miles per hour. He was in front of the second group.

The first group was more spread out. They were not hemmed in. The leader of the first group was the _Lexington, _a car built along the same smooth lines as the _Enterprise_. The _Lexington _was also in first place by virtue of its incredible head start. The ship was a cool gold color with chunky thrusters that spoke of good speed but bad maneuverability.

"Base to _Enterprise_. Handling con—"

There was a sharp static sound. Spock flinched and reached for his ear, but the sound retreated, leaving total radio silence.

"_Enterprise_ to base. _Enterprise_ to base," Spock said, but Uhura did not reply.

"What the hell just happened?" cried Kirk back at the viewing area. All around them, other teams were tapping their headsets and looking worried. Uhura pulled her earpiece out and popped the back off.

"The connections are solid," she said quickly. "Nothing wrong here."

"Th' system must be down," said Scotty. He looked down at the display he was holding. "Our screens are still working—they're set through our own satellites, not through th' central cortex."

The PA system announced an unexpected communications failure and requested patience. The teams with their displays at their base rather than in their car looked worried.

The first casualties occurred in the fifth group. One car, unsure of how fast it was going, tried to brake when another car swerved in front of it. Her engine exploded when the quickly-applied brakes caused the pressure in the engine to triple. The driver was ejected immediately and her vehicle slammed into three more vehicles behind her, ejecting their drivers. Twelve more vehicles sustained damage and seven more were disabled before the rubble was left in the dust.

Spock watched as eleven numbers went gray, then invisible. Now there were only ninety-four cars in the race.

Around him, the drivers without displays became desperate. The groups intermixed; worried drivers unsure of their position in the race sped up and danced between the other cars. It took all of Spock's skill to stay out of the way of the frantically weaving hovercars. Four more collisions occurred, taking out nine more cars. They had passed through the hills and were on another straight area of the track. The cars evened out, calming down even though communications had not been restored. Now that the drivers could see all of the other cars, they had a rough idea of where they were.

Spock had dropped to thirty-second, which he was not entirely satisfied with; his goal had been to stay above twentieth place. He figured that the calm would last until they came to the next part of the course, which was composed of sharp angles and turns. He sped up again, pushing the engines, advancing to fifteenth. The _Narada_ was ahead of him, having passed the _Enterprise_ in the logjam back in the hills, in third, battling for first and second with the _Lexington _and the _Constellation_, whose pilot seemed to have regained his senses and advanced safely to the head of the pack.

This was the first time Spock had set eyes on the _Narada_. It was completely unlike the other crafts. It had a single huge thruster at its back and was cylindrical, painted a brittle, gleaming black. The structure looked like many straight, sharp tentacles had been hewn from obsidian and attached to an invisible interior pod. Spock went cold at the sight of it. The craft was built to be menacing.

He stayed well back from the frontrunners, maintaining a position in the teens. All of his displays read systems normal. He assumed his handling was still fine; the _Enterprise_ turned well enough when she needed to. His fingers detected a slight tremble whenever he had to jerk the craft out of the way of collision, but he assumed that it was just the strain of the race.

The display in Scotty's hands told differently. A fuel line to the handling had burst during one of Spock's close calls back in the hills. The handling was fine for now, but the fluid was leaking: Spock's ability to steer the _Enterprise_ might not last the race.

"We need to effect repair to the communications system," Kirk insisted to Pike. "The race officials just aren't getting it done fast enough. We have to let Spock know about the handling."

"The officials aren't going to let you into the cortex," said Pike, frowning. "But you may try, if you think it'll help."

"I'm sure it will," said Kirk. He looked around. "I'll need everybody for this. No, wait—who's going to monitor the viewscreen?"

Pike raised an eyebrow at him. "I think I'm more than capable of watching a race," he said dryly. "I'll be in contact." He removed his communicator from his pocket. "Good luck."

Kirk led the Hoverclub out of the viewing area and down to the tunnel underneath the racetrack. The race central cortex was located on the interior of the track. There were guards stationed at the entrance of the tunnel.

Kirk had anticipated this. "Go," he said to Chapel and Sulu. They rounded a corner towards the guards, chatting animatedly. The guards snapped to attention.

"No unauthorized entry," said one of them sternly.

"Well that's not what we came for," said Sulu, fluttering his eyelashes at the guard, who relaxed a little. "The repair team from the main campus can't get past the main entrance. Those students are mobbing."

"Are they?" said the guard, looking concerned. She nodded to her fellow. "Let's check it out. Call backup." They set off towards the main entrance.

"That was pathetic," muttered Kirk. "No wonder Nero and his gang could get in here and sabotage the race."

"We don't know it was Nero," Uhura reminded him as they started down the tunnel.

"Yes, but let's go out on a limb, shall we? Scotty, how's she look?"

"Not bad," Scotty admitted, glancing up from the display. "Thank God th' last bit o' track is straight an' narrow. He might not be able t' steer by then."

They emerged into a small, empty lobby. They heard voices from a corridor off to the side. Kirk motioned everyone into a corner and slid silently over to the corridor entrance.

"—completely sealed off," somebody was saying. "A self-replicating force field, it looks like. We won't be able to get communications back before the end of the race."

Kirk flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to Scotty," he whispered. "Isn't there a trick to getting rid of self-replicating force fields?"

"Aye, take away their oxygen," said Scotty. "Starfleet's stopped using them now that they can be broken."

"Excellent," murmured Kirk. "These engineers won't listen to a couple of students, though. Looks like we need another distraction."

x

On the racecourse, the hovercars had reached the maze. Spock spun hard out of a particularly sharp turn, nearly colliding with another hover. The _Enterprise_ had not turned as well as he had expected, and the trembling in the steering wheel increased.

"_Enterprise_ to base," he repeated once more into his headset, the strain beginning to show in his voice.

Ahead of him, the _Narada_ swooped in front of a large orange hover, causing the driver to swerve to avoid it. Spock slammed the _Enterprise_ out of the way of collision, bumping into another hover. No damage was done to either car, but the orange hover spun out to the left. It reduced five cars to ruins.

Spock gritted his teeth. The trembling had increased when he had been forced to swerve. It was shaking him to the bone.

x

"Pike to Kirk," Kirk heard on his communicator.

"Kirk here."

"They're down to eighty cars. The _Narada_ is vicious, she keeps swerving and causing collisions. Spock's holding on, but barely; his steering has become erratic. He's dropped to twentieth."

"His readout is pretty bad," said Kirk, glancing at the display Scotty was holding. "The handling fluid is half gone. He's got to stop making sharp turns."

"Surely he knows by now."

"Maybe, but at this point he won't finish the race with steering power. Scotty says there's something we can get him to do if we can get communications back up, though, something he's been working on."

"What is it?"

"The Corbo—" Kirk went quiet.

"Pike to Kirk. Pike to Kirk. I've lost contact. Is everything okay?"

"Sorry, sir, there was an… incident. I'll be right back. Kirk out."

Pike snapped his communicator shut. What were they up to? At first, he had doubted that a bunch of high school kids could solve whatever it was that Nero had done. But he had to remind himself that they were exceptional high school kids.

x

"Nice work," said Kirk, surveying the empty corridor. "It's good not to have to knock people out."

"They really should learn to be more careful," said Chapel, brushing her hands together. "Gas leak my ass. How unrealistic is that threat these days anyway? They won't be able to get out of that supply closet for at least another forty minutes."

"We'll let them out when we get communications back up. Scotty? What's your plan?"

"I'm already settin' it up, Jim," said Scotty. His hands were wrapped around a thin blue beam of light that he was waving over the entrance to the room that housed the race central cortex. "The force field just about fills this room. We'll have t' turn off th' air supply. Sulu—"

"I got it," said Sulu, dashing off to a control panel on a nearby wall. "Say when."

Scotty sat the beam of light on the floor and pulled at its ends until it had gone all the way across the entrance. He flicked the beam and it unfurled, rising up to seal the entryway.

"Go," said Scotty.

Sulu snapped apart two cords. "System override," he reported. "Vacuum in three—two—one—"

Nothing changed beyond the screen of light.

"That should do it," said Scotty after a few seconds. "Effect repair."

Sulu hooked the cords back together. Scotty collapsed the light screen. Air rushed into the room. Scotty reached forward into empty space. The force field was gone.

"Excellent," said Kirk. "What next?"

"Now for th' actual repair work," said Scotty. "It shouldnae be too hard. Nyota, you know more about communications systems than meself."

"I'm right there," said Uhura, moving forwards. She knelt before the race central cortex, a glowing red pillar of hard drives and satellite uplinks. One portion of the pillar looked like it had been set on fire.

"I'll need a replacement catalyzer," she said, peering closely at the burned area. "And the primary transmitter has been half-melted. It'd be nice if they had an extra…"

Bones, Chapel, and Sulu were searching through compartments set into the walls. "This what you're lookin' for?" said Bones, holding up a long, flat gray panel with wires spewing out of its back.

"Perfect," said Uhura, taking it from him. "Christine, get me that toolkit. Jim, some eight point three wires. No, the blue ones."

Sulu found another primary transmitter. Chekov and Scotty attempted to install the thing, but they kept messing up the connections. Uhura snapped at them to quit; she was about to finish the catalyzer and would be there in a second. Scotty worked on general damage repair and instructed Kirk and Chekov to make sure the cortex would be able to sustain broadcast. They opened up a panel in the floor and poked around at the power supply, which looked fine. Uhura told Scotty to finish hooking up the catalyzer and moved to the transmitter, a rounded, fragile looking disc. Everyone watched anxiously as Uhura glided ten tiny wires into the correct nodes, shut the panel, and looked up.

"Power," she said to the pillar. The blackened parts glowed red once more. She pushed a few buttons on the control panel and heard her earpiece spark to life.

"Go," she mouthed, signaling with two fingers towards the entrance. "Base to _Enterprise_, emergency," she said into the earpiece. "Handling fluid half depleted, repeat, handling fluid half depleted. Avoid unnecessary maneuvering. Base to _Enterprise—_"

"_Enterprise_ here. Received."

"Stand by for further instructions." She followed the Hoverclub out of the cortex room. Chapel had disappeared to let the race officials out of their supply closet. Everybody else hovered inside the tunnel, waiting for her. She came sprinting silently out of the corridor, waving for them to go. Behind her, angry voices echoed off the walls.

At the tunnel entrance, the guards were still gone. "Instructions?" Uhura mouthed to Scotty.

"Wait," said Scotty. "He needs t' be in th' clear. And ah haven't finished th' calculations yet." He tapped his head. "They're three-fourths done and th' hardest is yet t' come."

By the time they got back to the viewing area, the other teams had figured out that communications were back up. The field was beginning to stabilize, although the chaos had taken out another eight cars. The distance between the crafts stretched. Spock maintained a shaky twenty-fourth place. But although the course was beginning to straighten out, Spock was having a harder and harder time steering. His handling fluid level had dropped to nearly zero.

"Base to _Enterprise_. Spock, all you have to do is get to the final straightaway," said Uhura. "Then we have something you can do to regain acceleration. It's called the Corbomite Maneuver."

"Received. Nyota, I have not heard of this."

"Monty came up with it a while back, when the fuel line blew. It should solve your acceleration problems. You have to be on the straightaway to execute."

"I shall arrive at that section of the course momentarily," said Spock, barely making it around a corner. "I am now in thirty-first position. This had better work."

"It will," said Uhura, shooting a glance at Scotty, who was doing frantic calculations with Chekov. Kirk leaned over their shoulders, totally focused.

"Thirty-ninth," said Spock. "Fifteen seconds."

"Got it," said Chekov, holding a paper triumphantly.

"Wait!" cried Kirk. "This is wrong—eighty-seven degrees! Damnit, let me redo this problem—"

Scotty threw up his hands. "Ah cannae do th' math that fast, Jim. You go ahead."

"Now would be nice," hissed Uhura.

"Fuck! Alpha point _two_," Kirk muttered, scribbling out a figure. He paused and stared at the paper. "Give me the headset."

"_What?_"

"I have to do this in my head. Give it to me."

Uhura pulled the headset off and gave it to Kirk, who fitted it quickly around his skull.

"Kirk to _Enterprise_."

"Spock here. What happened to Nyota?"

"Nothing. Thought I could explain better. You on the straightaway?"

There was a grunt on the other end. "I am now," said Spock, sounding strained.

"Here's what you do," said Kirk. "You have to line her up _exactly_ center on the trajectory, okay? I mean _dead fucking center_, not an arcsecond of a degree off. This is _crucial_."

"Received." Spock paused to align the craft. "Continue."

"You got it?"

"James, I am now in forty-seventh position."

"Okay, turn on the F57 and set the trajectory positive. Set the altimeter to eighty-eight degrees."

"Achieved."

"Prime the thrusters at four point eight."

"Achieved."

"Punch the following buttons with a delay of one second between each. Rocket two, rocket five, jammer, F32, and rocket one."

A pause. "Achieved."

Kirk held his breath. "What you're going to do next is the final step. It'll ignite the corbomite. Hold tight."

"Continue."

"Hit rocket three."

There was a _noise_.

On the track, the _Enterprise_ exploded forwards, flashing from fifty-eighth to sixth in five seconds. Within eight seconds, it was in second, diagonal to the _Narada_. They were less than a mile from the finish, just a quarter of a minute away.

"Okay, listen," Spock heard Kirk say. "Here's the deal. You can't steer. You have to just go straight, no matter—"

The _Narada _swerved towards him. Spock reacted instinctively. He spun the wheel.

The _Enterprise_'s thrusters blew up.

The shrapnel peppered the _Narada_, battering its dark exterior. The _Enterprise_, its tail flaming, slowed dramatically. In the viewing area, they watched, horrified, as Spock dropped rapidly in the ranking.

Spock flipped switches quickly, utterly composed, coaxing impulse power out of the barely-alive engine. He was _so close_ to the finish. He hit the accelerator. Smoke billowed out of the back end, confusing the crafts behind him. The _Enterprise_ limped over the line—in forty-ninth place. The _Narada_, severely damaged by the blowup, achieved fiftieth.

Spock braked, coasting the _Enterprise_ to a stop in her assigned space, out of the way of the vehicles still limping in. He sat in the slightly smoky cockpit for a second, breathing hard as he turned off the engines. There was yelling in his ear—in the viewing area, the crew of the _Enterprise_ were cheering madly.

"We'll be right down!" he heard Kirk shout.

Spock unsealed the hatch and pulled himself heavily out of the _Enterprise_. The grass was soft, he could tell even through his boots. He breathed deeply, removing his helmet.

The punch hit him squarely in the jaw.

x


	9. Chapter 9: By Any Other Name

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Nine: By Any Other Name_

x

Spock stumbled backwards into the hull of the _Enterprise. _He heard his attacker move towards him, presumably for another hit, and kicked out, catching the attacker in the knee. There was a crunching sound and Romulan cursing.

"Get away!" he heard a voice shout. "He's mine, Ayel."

Spock turned to see Nero shoving his second-in-command, Ayel, aside. Ayel clutched his knee, limping off to join the other twenty or so Pride Romulans surrounding the _Enterprise_. The mangled _Narada_ smoked nearby, its primary engine having been knocked out by the thruster explosion on the _Enterprise_.

Holding his jaw, Spock stared at Nero. He was not about to provoke the unpredictable Romulan into further action.

Nero was wearing a worn black leather flight jacket. His goggles had been pushed high over his unridged forehead. His clothing was grimy from engine grease and smoke, and covered in stained metal studs. By his expression, it looked as if he were trying to turn Spock to stone with only his mind. There was menace and hatred in every fold and crease of his muscular, intense body.

"You nearly _ruined_ our chances of continuing in this competition," hissed Nero, approaching Spock slowly. "That was deliberate sabotage on your part."

"I assure you, it was not," said Spock calmly, removing his headset and carefully pressing the emergency button on its side. "I was forced to execute a maneuver that required the full capacity of my craft. The turn I had to make when your hover swerved towards me caused my thrusters to overload. The fault is not mine, but neither is it yours. You could have no idea of the status of my engines."

"Which makes the _advantage_ yours," Nero growled. His deep black eyes were focused on Spock's face. "You will pay for this." He signaled, three fingers towards Spock. Ayel, trembling on unsteady legs but still sneering, leveled a phaser at Spock, who took an automatic step backwards.

There was a blur and a crash. Kirk, who had run down from the viewing area, had thrown himself at Ayel from just inside the ring of Romulans. Ayel screamed as Kirk landed squarely on his knee, breaking the bone this time. Spock and Nero had started towards the two when a voice yelled, "Stop!"

Three race officials pushed through the gathering crowd in Kirk's wake. One of them pointed a phaser at Kirk, who scrambled off of Ayel, hands in the air. The woman clearly in charge, judging by the racing authority sash around her shoulders, waved her hands, and the crowd backed up. Pike appeared, looking harried, with the rest of the Enterprise Hoverclub close behind him.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?" said Kirk innocently.

"Citizen, what is your name?" asked the woman imperiously.

"James Tiberius Kirk," said Kirk. Spock noted with shock that Kirk actually had a _grin_ on his face.

"State your reason for attacking that boy," the woman said.

"He was pointing a phaser at my friend," said Kirk. "Much like the one now being pointed at me. I am a student, you know. I can't do too much harm."

The guard lowered her phaser, flustered.

"I see no phaser," said the woman sternly, a hand on her hip. She was a slim, proud-looking blonde, dressed in a long black formal robe made of thin net material. The gold film decoration floating on her sleeves and waist did little to hide the large bulge of her stomach: she was very pregnant.

"Excuse me," said Pike. "Are you Dr. Eleen? In charge of the hovercraft program at UCLA?"

"Yes," she snapped, then hesitated, recognition in her eyes. "Christopher? What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you again, Julie." There was something sharp in Pike's voice. "I'm the Enterprise High sponsor. Jim Kirk is one of my students."

"Jim Kirk has attacked another participant. I must take action—"

"Wait a second," said Pike. "He did _what_? Jim, _what_ did you do?"

"He was pointing a phaser at Spock," said Kirk, pointing to Ayel. "I jumped him."

"I can affirm," said Spock. "That Romulan was indeed holding a phaser. He was directed to use it on me by this man, Mr. Nero."

Nero raised an eyebrow. "Did I really? That's strange, I don't remember giving such an order." He looked around at his Romulan crew members, the only witnesses besides Kirk and Spock. "Do any of you remember seeing Ayel with a phaser?"

They shook their heads.

"Unless you can produce the phaser, I suggest that Mr. Spock and Mr. … _Kirk_… are lying," said Nero to Dr. Eleen.

Dr. Eleen motioned to her guards, who approached the Romulans. "We have probable cause to search all of you," she warned when the Romulans looked as if they were going to resist.

But no phaser was produced. Ayel must have thrown it to somebody outside of the crowd, who had disappeared with it.

"I'm afraid that Mr. Kirk will have to be placed in our custody for the moment," said Dr. Eleen. "Without proof that his peer was being threatened, he has committed assault."

By this time, an ambulance had arrived for Ayel, who made the most of his leg, groaning and moaning as the EMT's loaded him onto a stretcher. Even Nero looked a little irritated at his show.

"Mr. Nero, where is your sponsor?"

"Dr. Eleen, my club received special permission from our school principal and from the council governing this competition to form without a sponsor. I am in charge."

Dr. Eleen raised an eyebrow. "Most unorthodox. I remember your request and am considering rescinding that permission. Come with me, all of you. Guards, escort Mr. Kirk to the audience chamber."

The two hoverclubs followed Dr. Eleen to race central, the Enterprise High students trying not to look like they found the route familiar. Dr. Eleen showed them into a small auditorium near the cortex. Four distinguished looking professors sat at the front of the room. Dr. Eleen sat in the middle of them, lowering herself carefully into her chair, her hand on her stomach. Pike directed his students to one side of the auditorium, Nero sent his to the other.

Dr. Eleen began without preamble. "We can easily expel Enterprise High from the competition," she said. "You will have to convince the panel that you should be allowed to remain in competition and that your team member is innocent of assault."

"That is a simple task," said Spock, standing to speak. He looked gallant, his flight jacket half open, a helmet tucked under his arm, his face streaked artfully with smoke. "Mr. Nero holds a grudge against Enterprise High, and especially against myself. Today, at the end of the race, I performed a dangerous and exact maneuver that allowed me to advance from below fiftieth to second place. Mr. Nero, in first, attempted to thwart my actions by swerving in front of me. I was forced to turn to avoid a collision, which blew up my engines, which damaged Mr. Nero's craft, which incited his wrath."

"The tape of the race will prove that," added Pike. "We can also provide you with schematics of our hovercraft."

"You'll leave those on file. Let's assume what you said is true," said Dr. Eleen. "Since you're a Vulcan, it is unlikely that you are lying."

"In the interest of full disclosure, Doctor, I am half-Vulcan. My father is Sarek, son of Skon, Vulcan Ambassador to Earth. My mother is Amanda Grayson, a human."

"You're Sarek's son? Very interesting. What are you, then, first in your class?"

Kirk looked like Christmas had come early. Spock's ears twitched as he corrected her.

"I am second in my class, doctor."

"Surprising, I thought you'd be first. I'm sure it's all those extracurriculars you're undoubtedly in. I consider you a trustworthy speaker, Spock. But your friend Mr. Kirk I'm not so sure about."

"Doctor," said Kirk, deciding to take advantage of his history, "I have recently moved to San Francisco from Riverside, Iowa with my mother, Winona Lawrence, the widow of George Kirk. He was my father."

Spock blinked. He hadn't known who Kirk's father was. Fascinating.

"_Very_ interesting," said Dr. Eleen. "And you were on the _USS Kelvin_, weren't you, Christopher?"

"Yes," said Pike shortly. His voice was cold.

"And you," said Dr. Eleen. "Nero. Your parents were Naeus and Aemilia, were they not?"

Kirk and Pike stiffened, and Spock actually looked surprised. Naeus and Aemilia were the husband and wife pair of Romulans who had led the rebellion against a Federation outpost nearly seventeen years ago. The _Kelvin_ had been destroyed in the insurrection.

"I am their proud child," said Nero quietly, his subdued voice full of passion.

All sorts of things were whipping through Kirk's head. He hadn't known that Naeus and Aemilia had a son, and if he had known, he certainly wouldn't hate the boy. But here that son stood, sounding like he supported his parent's actions. His father had given his _life_ to take theirs.

"So," said Dr. Eleen. "One could say you four have a bit of… history."

_Four?_ thought Kirk. _Nero's parents caused my father's death, and Pike was on the _Kelvin_, who else—_

"I was unaware of your parentage," said Spock to Nero. "I am surprised at your actions."

"I owe nothing to your family," snarled Nero.

"I agree," said Spock, his eyes cold. "We would want nothing from you."

The only reason Nero didn't try to kill Spock right there was because of the armed guards. Dr. Eleen, clearly sensing the tension in the room, asked if Nero had anything to contribute. He told his story—the _Narada_ was a victim of the _Enterprise_'s vicious attack and Kirk had assaulted Ayel unprovoked. Dr. Eleen looked skeptical, but—

"Despite my reservations, I am forced to suspend James Kirk from participation in this competition until his actions can be proven to have been provoked," said Dr. Eleen. "The council agrees."

x

Kirk was still spluttering an hour later.

"… tell that stuck up white-haired bitch queen what she can do with her suspension…"

"Will you shut up, Jim?" Bones growled. "I think they can't quite hear you back in San Francisco."

"Yeah, well," Kirk snapped, throwing his shoes into his bag with such force that the bag tumbled off the bed. "Fuck and damn!"

Spock opened his mouth to say something about cursing being illogical, caught Bones's eye, and stayed quiet.

Kirk finally got all of his things into his bag. He turned to Spock, still looking angry.

"What were they talking about earlier? How do _you_ know Nero?"

Spock paused. "The depth of my acquaintance with him was unknown to myself until today," said Spock. "I did not realize that he was the same Romulan my father talked about. You see, when Naeus and Aemilia revolted, my father Sarek was on his way to Delta Vega, near Vulcan. His ship received a call for help from the _USS Kelvin_, which was being repaired at Calder II, the planet where the insurrection took place. The _Kelvin_ was spaceworthy, but had only impulse power—"

"I know how it went," said Kirk shortly. "I never heard anything about a Vulcan being involved in this, though."

"My father was too late to attempt negotiations," said Spock. "He arrived after the _Kelvin_ had destroyed the Romulan encampment and dig site. He helped search for survivors, and found a baby Romulan in the rubble. He brought him to Romulus and gave him to a foster family." Spock let out a long breath. "That baby was Nero. No human could have found him in the ruins, and only humans were searching before my father arrived. He was under a metric ton of concrete and concertina wire, and his cries were too faint for human ears. He owes my father his life. And he knows it."

"That doesn't seem like something you ignore," said Kirk. "How did he end up on Earth? And why does he hate you so much, if your father saved his life?"

"I do not know," said Spock. "But I hope to find out."

x

Nearly everybody was on edge in the transport. Pike had become snappish after Sulu had asked him how he knew Dr. Eleen. Uhura was angry that she had gotten too drunk to put her Brilliant Plan to Get Into Spock's Pants into action. Scotty was mourning the damage to the _Enterprise_. Kirk was brooding about the suspension. Spock was pondering Nero.

Sulu, Chekov, and Chapel were in excellent moods. They cooked up a plan to cheer the crew up. It involved Sulu's house, sleeping bags, and large quantities of alcohol. They even invited Pike, knowing he wouldn't think it was at all appropriate, but they felt the effort should be made, and were unsurprised when he declined.

Everybody thought it was a good idea, especially when the alcohol was mentioned (Spock was even mildly interested in that aspect of it). Kirk volunteered to go on a beer run, if that was needed. In so doing, he actually had a short conversation with Sulu, who, after last night, was feeling much nicer towards his rival, even if Chekov did still steal glances at Kirk from under those long eyelashes.

x

Scotty covered the _Enterprise_ tenderly with a sheet. Her blackened hull saddened him. He couldn't believe the thrusters he'd worked so long and hard on were gone.

He put his hands on her hull. Her metal was cool. The studs under his skin burned their crease into his pads of his fingers. He lay across the ship, pressing his forehead to her. The scent of fire was deep. She would always smell like smoke and battle.

x

Chekov's back hurt. He had lain curled up in Sulu's arms all night and awoken happily. But as the day progressed, he found it harder and harder to straighten without flinching.

In his room, he reached around himself, feeling the muscles in his side. He pressed down, his fingers pushing into the fiber, relieving the pain for a moment. But when his fingers lifted, the pain came straight back. The Tylenol he'd taken earlier had not helped.

But it was a small price to pay for the long warmth of encircling arms.

x

Uhura paced. She could feel the attraction in her bones. It was bad already. She lay in bed at night and clutched a pillow, tossing and turning, wishing to God she were not alone in her small room in the middle of the large universe.

She _needed_ him. It was the way her hair stood on end whenever he hovered near her. The pockmark on his jaw. The little spidery veins in his thin eyelids. The mist of his breath. The warmth of his touch.

She knew she should snap out of it, but somehow, she couldn't. She had idealized Spock too much to realize fully how intense her feelings were. She breathed slowly, wondering what his lips felt like, imaging his heat.

x

Spock's father was waiting for him. Sarek stood, greeting his son formally, as he always did. Amanda hovered in the kitchen, waiting for the rolls to finish. Dinner was set out almost entirely, but for the silverware and the last of the food.

Spock was not thinking of much as he opened the drawer. His hands closed around the cold metal, reminding him of the _Enterprise_, of his fingers on the steering wheel. Loosely he counted out three forks, three spoons, and three knives. _Vulcans never touch their food_, he thought. _We even eat bread with a fork and knife._

Sarek inquired after the race. Spock told his parents all about it, in great detail. Amanda clucked over Kirk, mentioning that she'd thought he seemed impetuous, and that Winona had invited all of them over for dinner. Sarek raised an eyebrow at this but did not object. Spock tried not to think about what dinner at the Kirk residence would be like.

Afterwards, he hid a slice of bread under his sleeve and brought it back to his room wrapped in a napkin. He picked it up, feeling the delicate webbing of the dough compress under his fingers. He wrapped his hands around the bread and took a bite, eyes closed, enjoying the texture on his skin. But he only took one bite. He threw the rest of the bread away, sighing at himself. When he caught sight of a Vulcan dictionary on his shelf he thought of Uhura, suddenly and clearly, and imagined that she wouldn't consider him strange for what he'd done with the bread. The thought made him feel much better.

x

Bones's father was home. David McCoy had replicated a hasty dinner.

"I'm so sorry," he told his son. "Ian'll be home soon, but I've just got to dash up to work. Evidently the backup generator's gone out at the hospital."

"It's okay, father," said Bones, scooping dry mashed potatoes into his mouth. "I'm goin' to a thing tonight anyway, I'll just eat some more there."

"Okay, be healthy," said David, kissing Bones on the forehead. "Tell me how the race went later!"

Bones smiled as David rushed out the door. His disordered father was the head electrical engineer at St. Berry Hospital a few miles away.

When he finished with his meal, he unpacked his bag from last night, threw clothes into the washer, and packed it again. By the time he was ready to leave, his dad was home.

"Hey dad," said Bones, coming down the stairs. "How was work?"

"Terrible," growled Ian Kelley, Bones's other parent. "Where's David?"

"Work. The backup generator failed. And I'm leaving for a get-together."

"Damn you both," said Ian. Bones had gotten his bad temper from his dad. "Well, I guess I'll be fine without the two of you. Hey, how was the race?"

"I'm sure you'll be," said Bones. "It went good enough. We advanced. I'll tell you more later, okay?"

"Okay. Have fun without me."

x

Chapel checked her hair in the mirror. Everybody told her that she looked like she was twenty-five, not seventeen. She suspected her high cheekbones were at fault, or the deep, serious set of her eyes. She didn't like seeming older than she was, considering how much younger she felt.

She had told her mother all about the race as soon as she got home. Chapel was an only child; her mother, Heather, was asexual and had produced Chapel from a sperm donor. The two were very close.

Chapel had always wondered, guiltily, if there was something wrong with her mother, something that kept her from having a sexual relationship with any of her love interests. But Heather simply seemed disinterested. She rarely entered into relationships, and most of them passed quickly. Chapel decided, after a while, that some people were just not cut out for love. Sometimes she felt like she had inherited that tendency.

x

Sulu was alone in his huge house. His parents were gone, as usual, and would be for the remainder of the weekend. He didn't remember why. He kept as little track of their movements as they did of his.

He was in the zen garden at the back of the house, perched on a rock, rolling a joint. The tips of the paper curled, blackening, floating away when he lit it.

This was what he liked. Calm. Control. A situation that was difficult, but one he could handle.

x

"Oh my God," said the Hoverclub in unison.

They were watching Kirk stagger up Sulu's sidewalk, barely able to walk under the weight and heft of the alcohol he was carrying.

"It would be _great_ if somebody could give me a hand," Kirk said, sounding strained.

Everybody tumbled forwards, trying to help all at once. Kirk ended up carrying nothing at all. He sauntered into the house after everybody, whistling.

"This is incredible," said Scotty, staring at the loot spread out on the kitchen table. "How'd you manage, Jim?"

Kirk shrugged modestly. "I've always had a keen interest in drinking."

"Great variety," said Chapel approvingly. "Absolut, Smirnoff, regular old beer, Kaluha, icewine, Romulan ale, and—is this Aldebaran whiskey?"

"It is… it is… green," said Spock, leaning in to stare at the bottle, which was glowing slightly.

"Aye," said Scotty, gazing fondly at the drink. "And it tastes like gold."

"Let's get down to business," said Sulu, picking up the Absolut. "Everybody grab what you like. We're playing Never Have I Ever."

x

The eight of them sat in a circle, their drinks next to them. Almost everybody looked nervous.

"Okay, how this works," said Sulu. "I say, 'never have I ever… uh… broken a bone.' And if you _have_ broken a bone, then you take a drink. That's the whole game."

"This sounds very fun," said Chekov, looking excited. "Can I go first?"

"Go right ahead," said Sulu.

"Wait a moment, please," said Spock. "What exactly is the goal of this game?"

"To win," said Kirk at the same time Uhura said, "To lose." They stared at each other.

"The more drinks you have to take, the more, I guess, _experienced_ you are," said Sulu. "Some people see that as winning. Others see it as losing."

Spock eyed his icewine. "The goal, then, is drunkenness."

"Most goals are," said Kirk philosophically. Spock shot him a dark glance.

Chekov was impatient. "Can we begin?" he said. "I have a good one to start."

"Please," said Bones. "Let's get started."

"Never have I ever been to Los Angeles."

Sure enough, everybody took a drink. Spock hesitated before his, and spluttered a little afterwards. Bones slapped him on the back unhelpfully.

"Good one," said Scotty, "but borin'. We're here to talk about deep, dark secrets. So, never have I ever stolen somethin'."

Kirk, Chapel, and Sulu took drinks.

"A candy bar, when I was eight," said Sulu.

"A hair clip, on accident, last week," said Chapel.

"Five bottles of Cuervo Gold, a toolkit, two and a half yards of leather, a Corvette, a million terabyte card, a miniature schnauzer, a couple hundred apples over the course of my childhood, a box of condoms, an antique book…"

Everybody quickly agreed that Kirk didn't have to list _everything_.

"Stealing isn't too deep and dark," said Chapel, next in line. "Here's one—never have I ever seen somebody die."

Spock was the only one who drank. Everybody stared at him.

"My father once killed a man," said Spock. Jaws dropped. "I am sorry, I was attempting a joke. My grandfather died of old age."

The circle laughed, relieved and a little uncomfortable.

"Never have I ever gotten a tattoo," said Uhura.

Nobody drank. Spock was next.

"I have never—"

"Never have I ever," corrected Kirk, waving his Aldebaran whiskey at Spock, who frowned, and continued.

"Never have I ever, then, had sexual intercourse."

Uhura would have spit out her drink if she'd had any in her mouth. Once more, everybody was staring at Spock.

"You're a _virgin_?" said Bones. "I didn't know that was possible in the teenaged male."

"You forget, Leonard, that I am half-Vulcan. Our physiology is different."

"_How_ different?" Uhura couldn't help but ask.

"I should have phrased that better. Our sexual maturity differs, not our anatomy." Only Spock could say those words in such clinical terms.

"I don't understand how you can _not_ have sex," said Kirk. "It's a hell of a lot like breathing."

"Virginity is simply one state of being," said Spock.

"Thank you, Inara," said Kirk, rolling his eyes. "Has everybody taken a drink?" The circle nodded. "Great. So, never have I ever…"

Kirk stopped.

"Can't think of anythin'?" said Bones grumpily.

"There's got to be something," said Kirk, pondering. "Um… no, I've done that… Oh! Never have—damn, there was that one time, with the handcuffs. Let's see… Okay. Never have I ever been off planet."

"Wow, really?" said Chapel. Everybody had taken a drink. "How'd you manage that?"

"Never has my family's income ever topped nine hundred thousand credits a year," said Kirk dryly.

Sulu, whose family made about ten million a year, which was upper middle class, couldn't help but say, "But that's under the poverty line."

"Yep," said Kirk, not looking at anybody.

Bones cleared his throat awkwardly and went next.

"Never have I ever gotten a piercin'."

Uhura, Chapel, and Kirk drank.

"What the hell, Jim?" Bones demanded, peering at Kirk's ears and not seeing any holes.

"It was a dare," said Kirk, trying to hide behind his whiskey.

"_What was it?_"

"Muhrnr," muttered Kirk.

"Excuse me?"

"My nipples," said Kirk curtly. "And I got them removed pretty soon afterwards, okay?"

Everyone laughed. Kirk scowled, looking for a moment like Bones's twin brother.

"Never have I ever been beaten up," said Sulu.

Kirk, Bones, Chekov, and Spock took drinks. They were all reluctant to talk about who had beaten them up and why.

It was back to Chekov. Kirk was looking quite tipsy. Everybody else had been forced to take at least one drink.

"Never have I ewer been in love," said Chekov.

Bones, Scotty, Sulu, and Uhura drank.

"Jocelyn," said Bones shortly.

"I'd rather not say, t' be honest," said Scotty. Uhura and Sulu nodded vehemently in agreement with Scotty. Disappointment was evident on everybody else's face.

"Never have I ever had sex with a stranger," said Scotty.

"Can I just start drinking water?" Kirk asked, finishing his whiskey.

"Of course not, ah'll get you some more," said Scotty, snatching Kirk's glass and heading for the alcohol.

Chapel and Sulu also drank, blushing. They refused to explain the circumstances.

"Never have I ever sent somebody to the hospital," said Chapel.

Kirk, Spock, and Uhura drank.

"What'd you two do?" demanded Sulu, ignoring Kirk.

Uhura shrugged. "There was a guy who was being annoying. I broke his nose."

"Spock?"

"In my childhood on Vulcan, I was not accepted because of my ancestry. Certain of my peers attempted to take advantage of my supposedly emotional state. I rebuffed them."

"How badly were they hurt?" said Bones.

"Their convalescence was… extended," said Spock shortly.

Uhura's turn. "Never have I ever had sex in a car."

"I hate all of you," said Kirk solemnly, taking a drink. Scotty, grinning widely, also drank.

"Never have I ever cheated on a test," said Spock.

"I'm going to get alcohol poisoning thanks to you," Kirk growled.

"That is my profound wish, James."

"Fine. Never have I ever been second in my class."

Spock gasped indignantly. "Never have I ever been _arrested_."

"Yeah, well, never ever have I ever nearly lost a hover race."

"The fault was not _mine_, James. Never have I ever been afflicted with an STI."

"Low blow, Spock," snarled Kirk. They had moved beyond drinking, now. "Never have I ever punched a hole in my wall because I didn't like getting shown up in school."

Spock went silent. "How did you know about that?" he asked quietly.

"Your mom happened to mention it the other day at the supermarket," said Kirk, an ugly look on his face. "I didn't know I had quite so much impact on you, Spock. Good to know I can affect you so easily."

"You have no authority over me," said Spock, trying to pull himself together. "You have no impact on my life."

"I really doubt that, Spock. From what I've seen, I could drive you batshit crazy in under a week."

"Perhaps you already have, James!" cried Spock. "Do you have any idea how painful your presence has been for me?"

"Do you have any idea how little I care?" Kirk replied coldly.

At that point, Uhura's fist hit Kirk's jaw.

x

After being plyed with substantial amounts of alcohol, Kirk, Spock, and Uhura calmed down. Kirk and Spock had identical bruises blossoming on their jaws, now, and were still shooting glares at each other. Spock was distinctly unsteady on his feet despite only drinking a glass and a half of icewine. He was sitting on the other side of the circle from Kirk, now, next to Uhura, who had an arm around his shoulders protectively.

Kirk was starting to warm to Uhura. "You're _very_ strong," he leered across the circle. "I bet you could _handle_ me."

"Not in a million years," said Uhura, her voice like ice. She tossed back a shot of Jack Daniels. "Let's keep playing this game."

"I like you guys," said Scotty, grinning around the circle. "You're excitin'!"

x


	10. Chapter 10: The Savage Curtain

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Ten: The Savage Curtain_

x

"Never have I ever paid for sex," said Sulu.

Kirk drank.

"Never have I ever cheated in a relationship," said Chekov.

Kirk drank.

"Never have I ever taken hard drugs," said Scotty.

Kirk drank.

"Never have I ever slept with more than ten people in a week," said Chapel.

Kirk drank. It was beginning to feel like all he did was drink.

"You are despicable," Uhura growled at him.

Kirk shrugged. He didn't care about much anymore.

"Never have I ever been in a threesome," she said.

Kirk drank. So did Scotty, Uhura, Chekov, and Bones.

"Never have I ever kissed someone," said Spock.

"Yes you have," said Kirk without thinking.

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. "Indeed, James? And you would know better than I, I suppose? I have _been_ kissed, but I have not initiated the kissing."

"Uh," said Kirk. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." He took a drink along with everybody else and tried to smile, genuinely not sure why he _had_ said that. "Moving on. Never have I ever…" As usual, he took a moment to come up with something. "… gone streaking."

Much to everybody's surprise—everybody took a drink.

"Oh my god, _you_ have?" said Chapel to Spock. "You know what that _is_?"

"I would prefer not to discuss the incident," said Spock, attempting to look dignified. "Let us simply say that honor was at stake."

"_Whose_ honor?" asked Chekov.

"I would prefer not to discuss the incident."

"How old were you?" demanded Scotty.

"I would prefer—"

"Never have I ever," said Bones loudly, "had sex with a teacher."

That distracted everybody.

Kirk drank. And so did Uhura.

"No," she said, before anybody could get a syllable out. "I am _not telling you_."

A slow smile was spreading across Scotty's face.

"I will kill you," she warned him. "You will die."

"The cat's out o' th' bag, lass," said Scotty.

"I swear to God —"

"'Twas Mr. Sinor," said Scotty, positively beaming. Uhura hid her face in her hands.

"Your _Vulcan professor_?" cried Sulu.

"I _don't_ want to talk about it," said Uhura, voice muffled.

"Oh, that is _so_ not an option," said Chapel. "When did this _happen_? Was it this year?"

"No," muttered Uhura. "It was during the summer. I didn't know he was a teacher. God, the first day of class was _so_ awkward."

"How did you manage?" asked Sulu. "He's a Vulcan. I thought they were, like, asexual or something. Sorry, Spock."

"No matter, Hikaru."

"Well, uh, he was kinda drunk," said Uhura, looking anywhere but at Spock.

"Vulcans do not drink," said Spock automatically. When everybody snickered, he put his icewine down, scowling.

"I am half human, may I remind you," said Spock sternly. "Pure Vulcans have almost _no_ tolerance for alcoholic beverages; what they drink does not filter through their—"

"We're students, not idiots," growled Bones.

"He had like a quarter of a shot," said Uhura. "It was enough. Please, can we move on?"

"Oh, I don't think so," said Chapel. "Can you look him in the eye yet?"

"Definitely not," said Uhura. "And also, guys, I wasn't lying about having had sex with a stranger. I'd met him before."

"Mmhm."

"I had! Maybe it hadn't been for long, but… still. I knew _of_ him, at least. Now seriously. Who's going next?"

"My turn," said Sulu, waving his hand tipsily in the air. "Something serious, maybe? How about, never I have ever tried to kill myself?"

In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Kirk and Spock took small, self-conscious drinks.

They were both remembering.

x

_As Spock fell, he regretted his actions, he regretted his heritage, he regretted his whole life. He watched the ground devour the sky until the ground was all that was left, and then it ate him too, biting into his back, snapping it clean in half with its blunt brown teeth._

_When he woke up, the regret was still there, laced with pain. Without hesitation he tried to rewire the machine he was hooked up to, trying to force it to overdose him. The nurses wrestled the cords away, pressing hyposprays into his neck._

_When he woke up again, he was restrained. He tore at his bindings until doctors flooded the room. He tried to calm, but all the people—they were too much, too loud, too soon. He wrenched at the restraints, screaming. His barely-healed back broke again, and the pain consumed him like the ground had._

_When he woke up again, he was facing a window. His mind was filled with drugs. He was in the psych ward. They didn't trust him. Why should they?_

_He floated, for a while, watching the sky._

x

_Winona slapped Kirk across the face, panicking. She forced syrup of ipecac down him and leaned him over a trashcan. She was yelling, tears streaming down her face. He couldn't hear anything but the hateful beat of his heart. The pills came up, a white mass that tore apart his throat, and he collapsed._

_In the hospital, he wouldn't speak to anybody, not the doctors, or the nurses, or the psychologists. Not even his mother, or his brother. And _certainly_ not his stepfather, who only visited him once anyway._

_He just lay there, wishing he could have succeeded, but hating himself for trying._

x

Everybody was asleep.

No, not everybody. Spock was awake. He wasn't tired.

The game hadn't lasted long after that. Nobody had meant to stumble that far into serious territory. They lapsed, separating. Bones tried to talk to Kirk, but Kirk wouldn't talk to him, not about what had happened. Spock wouldn't talk to anybody.

Eventually they faded into sleep.

Spock remained, staring out a window. Darkness had swallowed the house.

The house was full of windows. They all let in the bright moonlight, casting shapes into stark relief. The house looked filled with monsters. Spock supposed it was, in a way. He put his hand on a glass pane, eyes tracing the outline of trees outside.

He stepped amongst their sleeping forms, observing their breath, the flicker of their eyelids. Sulu was asleep next to Chekov, his hand stretched out towards the boy, nearly touching Chekov's sleeping bag. Kirk was curled up, almost fetal, a deep frown on his face. He was angled away from Bones, who was open to him, almost inviting. Chapel, near Bones, was asleep in much the same fashion as Sulu. A hand reached towards Bones, but he was very far away. Scotty slept like Spock would like to, on his back with his arms crossed over his chest. Uhura was invisible under her covers, separated from everyone else.

He paused in the center of them. They were splayed around him as if he had killed them, or defeated them. He couldn't decide which.

He moved out of the living room into a hallway, then into another large chamber. He sank to the hardwood floor, back to the entrance, eyes on the outdoors. He didn't know how long he watched the night.

"Spock," said a voice behind him.

Uhura was awake. She wasn't tired either.

He turned and looked at her for a long moment. She was framed in another window, wrapped in the blanket she had brought with her. She looked like a priestess wrapped in a ceremonial robe. Her loose hair glowed in the moonlight. He felt his throat dry. There was something like awe climbing up his brain stem, wrapping itself around his thoughts.

He moved over a little, making room for her next to him. She settled beside him.

The room looked out over a zen garden. They were silent, watching the stillness. Spock felt wrapped in a blanket of calm.

"Things—things come out prettier, when they're bad," said Uhura quietly, at last. "Because then every drop of good is beautiful."

"Yes," Spock replied after a while, staring into the sky. "Even when those drops are few and far between. Sometimes they can be like water in the desert. You want them so badly, but they hurt going down, since you are unused to their nourishment."

"I would pour you a cup, but not if it hurt you," said Uhura. "Unless you chose to drink despite the pain."

Spock turned to her.

"I did hurt," he said. "I do not, anymore."

He leaned to her mouth, brushing it with his lips. She was still.

"You love me," he said.

"I do," she replied.

He kissed her again. And again.

The moon glowed, abstrusely.

x


	11. Chapter 11: Bread and Circuses

A/N: Guys—_Sprocket_. Isn't that just the _cutest?_

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Eleven: Bread and Circuses_

x

"I don't want to talk about it, Winona."

"Maybe _you_ don't, but _I_ sure do. You can't just barge in here and tell me something like that and then want to _leave._"

"And yet." He started towards the door.

"Christopher."

Pike paused, hand near the button to open the door.

"Christopher," said Winona. "I understand what you're going through."

"You—you understand? How could you _possibly_ understand?"

"You had to have thought I'd understand a little if you came to tell me something like that."

"Well, yes, but—"

Winona shook her head. "No, never mind. I _am_ too tired for this. I just got an assignment and I should be going. Just, don't mention this to Jim, okay?"

"I would never."

"Good. I'll see you around?"

"I'll see you around."

Pike left. Winona plopped onto a couch.

_What an interesting development_, she thought.

x

Speaking of interesting developments.

Chapel woke up first, at around seven thirty. She rolled over to find Spock and Uhura sleeping side by side, Spock's arm thrown loosely over Uhura's shoulders. Chapel made subtle but persistent noises until Uhura opened her eyes, saw Chapel gaping at her, and winked slowly.

Chapel poked Sulu hurriedly in the ribs. He moaned and rolled over, covering his eyes with his blanket. _Damn_. She tried Bones next. He actually tried to hit her. Scotty responded better. He sat up and looked over to where Chapel was pointing.

_What th' hell?_ he mouthed at Chapel.

Chapel shrugged, eyes wide.

Uhura pulled herself out from under Spock's arm. He made a quiet, adorable noise and grabbed her pillow, hugging it to him, before going completely back to sleep.

Scotty and Chapel dragged Uhura into the kitchen.

"_Well_?" they demanded.

Uhura couldn't stop smiling. She sighed and spun, her nightgown whipping around her legs. "He _kissed_ me!" she trilled. "We'd all fallen asleep, and I was having this _dream_. It was the strangest thing, like all of these layers of darkness were unpeeling around me and finally everything in front of me was white, and I woke up and the curtain had been pushed aside somehow and the streetlamp was shining in my face. So I got up and yawned a bit and played a couple of games on my PADD before I noticed that _Spock wasn't in the room_ so I went looking for him and he was sitting in the back room, looking out at the garden, and he looked so _sad_. And I said his name and he looked at me and—I don't know. He just got this _expression_, like he was looking at something he'd never seen before."

She paused to take a long drink of water. She was high with elation.

"And I went and sat next to him. And the atmosphere was—it was like molten electricity. Like everything was still, but full of—potential, as if it was all about to become _kinetic_ and _active_. And I knew what he was thinking, sort of. About how he'd, you know, tried to kill himself at one point. And I knew that the atmosphere must feel different to him, I mean, it was kind of haunting, kind of nostalgic. He was so obviously sad. So I said something like, 'When things are bad, then the good looks particularly beautiful.' And we got into this amazing analogy about water in the desert, and I offered to make everything better, I guess you could say. And he said he was already better."

She fluttered. "And then he _kissed_ me! He just leaned over and there were his lips and I was like, _buh_. Just _flattened._ You could have hit me with a rocket launcher and I wouldn't have moved."

She stopped.

"What?" said Chapel.

"Well, the next bit, I don't know about," she said. "He said—he said it like a statement. He said, 'You love me,' and I said, 'I do,' and then we just kept kissing and kissing and, well. We ended up on the floor." She sighed hugely. "He got on _top_ of me. It was the best thing that has ever happened to me. In my life. Although I think sex with him might be so good that I would explode, and not metaphorically. Like _actually_."

"So he never said he loved you?" said Scotty.

Uhura shrugged. "He never said."

"Huh," said Scotty and Chapel at the same time.

Uhura rolled her eyes. "Come on. Like it _matters_."

"It does matter!" said Chapel. "It means he's not as in to you as you are to him."

"_So_? He's at least _in to _me."

"But if you want it to go somewhere, there has t' be equal footin'," said Scotty.

"Oh, not necessarily," said Uhura. When Chapel and Scotty both tried to say something, she interrupted. "That is to say, _I don't care_. He can feel however he wants as long as he keeps putting his tongue in my mouth. And he was definitely lying last night, he _has_ been kissed before, because he sure knows how to do it."

x

When Kirk woke up at eight, Uhura, Scotty, and Chapel were not in the room. Everybody else was asleep. He had a massive headache and didn't feel like doing a thing but getting out of Sulu's house, taking a long, hot shower, and going back to sleep. He attempted not to wake anybody else up, but as he was leaving, he accidentally dropped his bag on Bones's head.

Bones let out a series of muffled curses, flailing. Chekov, Sulu, and Spock all shifted identically in their sleeping bags and blankets. Kirk tried not to giggle and pulled his bag off of Bones's skull, whispering sorry.

Bones mouthed obscenities at him. Kirk, thinking for a moment, leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Can I come over to your house?"

For a moment, Bones seemed incapable of replying through his rage. Then he covered his eyes and nodded shortly. Kirk, grinning, left Sulu a note thanking him for a great time (_Not really_, he thought) and tossed his bag on his motorcycle. Bones came out a few minutes later and Kirk followed him home.

x

Uhura made sure to be close by when Spock woke up. She was cross-legged next to their makeshift bed, working on Vulcan vocabulary on her PADD. She saw his eyelids flutter and glanced over. He stretched, pushing the pillow away from him, and automatically reached up his hand to smooth down his hair. Then he saw her staring at him.

Her heart melted when a small smile played across his lips.

He sat up and leaned over, resting his hand on her shoulder. He kissed her lightly on the lips, then on the cheek, and moved back, further away but still intimately close. Uhura could see Scotty and Chapel peeking around the wall. She ignored them.

"Good morning," she said softly.

"Good morning," he replied. He looked hazily content. She was glad to see she had wrought such a change in his attitude. He seemed almost decadently lazy. He kissed her again, deeper this time. He obviously didn't care if anybody else was in the room. He hadn't even looked around to see who was awake.

"Would you like to leave?" he said. "We could go back to my house and—" The pause was well-measured and small. "—study."

"I would _love_ to," said Uhura, surprised at how deep her voice was.

She managed to rouse Sulu from his coma and say goodbye, inserting as many meaningful winks into the conversation as possible. But Sulu was extremely stupid early in the morning and kept asking what was wrong with her eye, so she left it at that and went home with Spock.

x

Chapel and Scotty cleared out quickly. Bones invited them to his house; evidently Kirk had fallen asleep on Bones's bed after taking a shower and Bones was bored to high heaven. They left Sulu and Chekov to sleep.

Chekov woke up at around eleven. Sulu was still completely out. Chekov wandered into the kitchen and found eggs and bacon. Sulu was roused by the divine smell of cooking breakfast.

Wrapping his blanket blearily around his shoulders, he stumbled into the dining room. Chekov was dropping bubbling sunny-side up eggs onto a plate, accompanied by three long, crisp slices of bacon. He had even replicated some rolls. Two frosty glasses of orange juice were already sitting on the kitchen bar.

"Pavel," said Sulu, frozen by the entryway. "You made _breakfast_?"

Chekov grinned at him, plate in one hand, spatula in the other. "Da, Hikaru. Does it look good? My mother says I am a wery talented cook. Now you can see if I am."

He chivvied Sulu into a chair and set the plate in front of him.

"Dig in," he invited happily. Sulu, still unable to believe what was happening, tasted the eggs. They were _delicious_.

"Pavel, this is amazing," he said, his mouth full. "You should be a chef!"

"Oh, you are, huv do you say, encourageable?"

"Incorrigible, Pavel. And that's not entirely true. I'm not bad, I just like your cooking."

"Ah. My English is not the best. Thank you."

They cleaned up the kitchen when they were finished. Then they wandered into the game room. Sulu had a number of old holoprograms Chekov was interested in, primarily those based on old science fiction movies and television shows.

"Sci fi doesn't hold up very well," Sulu commented as Chekov flicked through the programs. "I don't get why people are still such big fans of stuff from the past. The 21st century especially had some low-quality output."

Chekov frowned. "I beg to differ, Hikaru," he said, selecting a program and assigning it to the computer. "It is the ideas, they are vhat are constant through time. You can haf terrible effects and an incredible story."

"Yeah, but—what'd you choose? _Star Wars_? Come on, it's just Joseph Campbell in space. There's nothing creative about it."

"Do you dislike all early science fiction?"

"Basically."

"You don't even like _Battlestar Galactica_? Or_ Raker's_? _Saber_?_ Babylon 5_? _Geocentric_?"

Sulu shook his head. "I don't do anything before the 22nd century. Period."

"I never liked you," Chekov informed Sulu. "Science fiction was inwented by the Russians much before the 22nd century." He snapped on the hologlasses for the _Star Wars_ program. "You are not allowed to play with me. Go sit ower there while I haf fun in the 20th century."

Sulu threw up his hands, laughing. "Fine, be that way."

Chekov, mouth set, was already in the program. Smiling at the boy's attachment to camp, Sulu activated a 22nd century game of his own.

x

Uhura had never been to Spock's house before. It was a large, brown-red structure at the end of a cul-de-sac in the upscale part of Lessels. Since Chapel had given her a ride to Sulu's, Spock had driven her to his house.

Uhura realized that this visit might be a little more than she had bargained for. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night and probably looked terrible, though she'd done her best in the bathroom back at Sulu's. Her hair was tamed and her makeup had been corrected, but she knew she had bags under her eyes and her skin was oily. Spock, though, looked perfect. Not a hair was out of place. How the hell did he manage that?

"My parents are home," said Spock quietly. He had met Uhura's parents when he'd gone over to her house. But this was inherently different. Uhura's father was very laid back and would have reacted the same to Spock were he dating Uhura or not. But Spock's parents—

"My mother is a kind woman, but she is protective of me," said Spock. "My father will seem—frankly, he will seem unkind. But that is his way. He will reserve judgment of you for quite some time. I am sure he will like you, however. And while I-Chaya is very enthusiastic, do not be afraid of him."

"I-Chaya—?"

Spock had already gotten out of the car. He hurried to the other side of the car and held the door open for her. She smiled, forgetting her question, and he kissed her lightly.

"Mother?" called Spock, opening the front door. "Where are you? I have brought someone to meet—"

Uhura squealed as a huge, shaggy creature bounded out of a room off the entranceway and threw itself at her. She staggered backwards as the thing licked her face enthusiastically, its front paws resting on her shoulders.

"I-Chaya! Down!" snapped Spock. The creature dropped down, wagging its stub of a tail woefully. Spock rubbed it roughly between the ears. "Do not assault Nyota," he commanded sternly.

"Is—is that a _sehlat_?" Uhura managed, wiping her face. The creature looked like a gigantic teddy bear with six-inch incisors that grew over its lips and past its chin.

"Yes," said Spock. "I-Chaya has been with me since my birth. Haven't you, boy?" he said, scratching the _sehlat_'s chest lovingly. "Good _sehlat_."

_That thing can provoke conjunctions from him,_ Uhura thought with amazement. _He must really love it._

"Good morning, dear," said Amanda from the entrance to the kitchen. "Who's that you've got with you? I-Chaya, over here." She snapped her fingers. I-Chaya bounded across the living room to her, leaping over the sofa on his way.

"This is Nyota Uhura, mother," said Spock, taking Uhura's hand. "She is the girl I have been tutoring in Vulcan."

Amanda's eyes snapped from their hands to Spock's face. "Tutoring?" she said dryly.

"In Vulcan," said Spock steadily. Uhura stared at her shoes.

"Are you still _tutoring_ her, then?" So that was where Spock got his desert-dry wit.

"Yes, mother," said Spock. "In addition, I have entered into a relationship with her."

Amanda wiped her hands on the towel she was holding, now staring at Uhura. She looked somewhat surprised. Uhura fidgeted. Then Amanda's face broke into a smile.

"Come in," she said. "I'm sorry, here, have a seat, I'll make you two some breakfast. You can call me Amanda. So, you're learning Vulcan, dear? Who's your teacher?"

Spock's lips twisted as if he were trying to repress laughter; he was clearly remembering her confession from the night before. Uhura felt her cheeks go warm and was thankful that nobody could see her blush.

"Mr. Sinor," whispered Uhura.

"I know Sinor," said Amanda, her back to Spock and Uhura. "He's a friend of your father's, Spock. He just moved here this summer, didn't he? He really seems to like Earth."

"I've noticed," Uhura managed to say. "He's a great teacher."

"Yes, quite," said Amanda. "He was a lecturer at the Vulcan Science Academy before he started consulting for Starfleet. I understand he teaches in his spare time. Has Spock's tutoring been helpful?"

"Definitely," said Uhura. "I didn't _need_ any help, per say, but I like to do well in my classes."

"She can speak eighteen languages, mother," said Spock.

"Very impressive," said Amanda. "_Ash'en eo ohn kahshivay'e_?" she said, turning to Uhura.

"_Om'shavon neishakash a'fur da'koyif_," Uhura replied smoothly.

"_Soufa_," said Spock. "Stop. My Andorian is rusty, as one would say in English. What were you saying?"

"Oh, nothing," said Amanda, her eyes lighting up. "I love that language even more than Vulcan. I'm very glad to find somebody who can speak it. _Sh'fay om'shavak goyinkan, asibit'k_?"

"_Ay, mesakasun ohn dr'koyif,_" said Uhura.

"Yes, I suppose we should return to Standard. Sorry, Sprocket," she said to Spock.

Uhura's eyes widened. _Sprocket_? she mouthed to Spock.

"It is her nickname for me," whispered Spock, looking irritated. "I dislike nicknames."

Uhura couldn't help but giggle.

Amanda served them grilled vegetables and eggs, putting down a bowl of raw meat for I-Chaya, who positively attacked the food. She and Uhura discussed Spock a little, which made Spock scowl into his Brussels sprouts. They were nearly finished eating when Sarek entered the kitchen, dressed formally.

"Good morning, father," said Spock.

"Good morning," Sarek replied, kissing Amanda on the cheek and scratching I-Chaya's chin. He turned expectantly to Uhura.

"This is Nyota Uhura," said Spock. "We are in a relationship."

_God, he's so blunt_, Uhura thought. She looked at Sarek, who was looking back at her with absolutely no expression.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Sarek."

"Greetings, Nyota," said Sarek. He turned back to Amanda. "I must leave. I will return at two o'clock."

"Be careful, dear," said Amanda, smiling and squeezing Sarek's hand.

"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance," said Sarek, nodding to Uhura. He put a hand on Spock's shoulder and left.

Uhura let out the breath she'd been holding. Amanda nodded knowingly.

"He has that affect on you, at first," she said. "You get used to it."

After breakfast, they spread their homework out on the living room floor. Amanda left to go shopping and they ended up making out on the couch for an hour. Uhura was pleasantly surprised that she could distract him from schoolwork.

"We never really discussed entering into a relationship," said Uhura between kisses. "You're sure you want to?"

"Do I seem to be hesitating on the matter?"

Uhura laughed. "I'll give you that. Hey, who else have you dated? I know there was Evan Gray, last year, and uh, was her name Bette? In freshman year?"

"Yvette Gessard," he said. "Her family moved back to France. Evan and I broke off our relationship because we differed on a number of crucial points."

"Oh? Such as?"

"Evan was interested in pursuing a sexual relationship. I felt, at the time, that I was too young for such an association."

He saw the expression on Uhura's face still.

"Of course, I have matured," he said quietly. Then, to drive the point home, he licked her ear.

They weren't going to get back to homework for quite a while.

x


	12. Chapter 12: Arena

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Twelve: Arena_

x

Bones, when Chapel told him about Spock and Uhura, spat cranberry juice all over the living room carpet and had to activate an emergency cleaning procedure to make sure the stain didn't set in. Scotty and Chapel were no use during the cranberry crisis, since they were too busy laughing their asses off at Bones's high-trajectory spit-take. Bones cursed at them and ran around chivvying robots towards specks of crimson. The robots, for the most part, ignored him.

When the carpet was clean, Bones turned back to Scotty and Chapel.

"Would you please," he growled at them, totally unaware of the juice that had frozen tackily on his chin, "repeat what you said?"

They couldn't help it. They laughed for about another year before they explained the situation to him.

Bones was shocked, to say the least. He'd gotten the feeling that Spock had been attracted to Kirk—there had been something in the way they'd fought last night—not Uhura. Everbody knew that Uhura was in to Spock, but he was surprised it had evidently worked out so well for them.

Chapel was twirling a glass on her finger. She'd been friends with Uhura since forever, certainly as long as she could remember. Their mothers had taken a Lamaze class together. They had done the usual best friends thing, hanging out and playing with Barbie dolls and GI Joes constantly as kids, hitting deeply awkward puberty at the same time and being utterly weirded out by it, having sex together when they were fourteen and getting over it by the time they were fifteen in favor of all of the other people who wanted to sleep with them. They had been close to Scotty, too, but he was different—his family was very eccentric (not to mention alarmingly Scottish) and he seemed to be mechanosexual instead of omnisexual.

Bones's family had lived in a different part of San Francisco. They didn't meet him until high school, after Kirk was no longer in an influence in his life. Sulu they had known since elementary school, but he had never been to close to them until now. And Spock, since he had moved from Vulcan, had always just been _around_, a constant presence in their AP classes and extracurriculars. He never seemed to consider himself friends with anybody, but they weren't too offended. Junior year he had started actually hanging out with people, shifting between various groups before settling into the Hoverclub clique, which was less of a clique and more of six people with a common interest. They weren't exclusive by any means; Gaila and Rand hung out with them quite often, as did Kevin Riley, Helen Noel, and Elizabeth Dehner and Gary Mitchell, who had been together since middle school.

Chapel had always been somewhat fascinated by Bones. He was a slim man, which meant that the opposing football team took him for granted, disbelieving the stories about Enterprise High's star quarterback until he flattened them out and scored touchdown after touchdown without breaking a sweat. He was soft-spoken around women, polite and traditional, which weirded most girls out even though they had to admit that they liked it. Around boys he was all rough and tumble, ready to go yet oddly subordinate, as if he'd had enough of being in charge ages ago and was waiting around for somebody else to lead. And his blue eyes, pale as the clouds, could see through any pretense. He didn't associate with bullshitters.

Chapel tossed the spinning glass into the air and caught it smoothly. Bones and Scotty were in the kitchen making sandwiches. Neither of Bones's fathers were awake yet, even though it was nearly noon. Evidently one of them had had to work late, and the other had stayed up to wait for him. Chapel wondered momentarily what it would be like to have two parents. She couldn't imagine how complicated that would be. Her mother's asexuality had given her no advantages. She was unused to entering into relationships, usually remaining in the unrequited attraction stage for longer than was entirely healthy.

The boys came out of the kitchen bearing lunch. One of them had made her a sandwich, which Scotty placed in front of her. It was a roast beef and Swiss cheese abomination, two tiny slices of Parisian bread swathed in about half a pound of meat and six slices of cheese. The accompanying pickle was obscenely large.

"Thanks," said Chapel dryly, eyeing the creation. "I'll just run in here and get a fork."

She managed to consume about half of her meal, while the boys, whose sandwiches were even larger than hers, went back for seconds. Afterwards, as Scotty was picking his teeth attractively with a screwdriver, Bones asked her if she wanted to play tennis.

"Let me digest for a while, first," she said. "Got an extra racket? Or should I run home?"

"I've got a graphite one with a small grip," said Bones. "Mind if it's a bit worn?"

"As long as it's still tight."

Scotty burped. "Ah'll be goin', then," he said, standing. "Should go work on th' poor _Enterprise_. You two have fun." For some reason, he winked at Bones before leaving.

"What are you planning?" she demanded of Bones the moment the door had closed. "Why'd he wink at you?"

Bones rubbed his chin, looking nervous. "No reason," he said shiftily, moving to put away the lunch plates.

"No, what is it?"

"Well, it's nothin', I was jus' thinkin' about maybe askin' you to go see a—a movie with me some time, maybe, if you were interested…"

Bones's expression was hangdog and pleading. Chapel grinned at him, her heartbeat speeding up imperceptibly.

"I'd love to, sometime," she said. "_If_ you beat me. Five out of eight?"

"It's on," said McCoy, a smile lighting up those ice blue eyes.

x

Kirk was awoken by the quick _chr-chr-chr_ of his communicator. He fumbled around for it on the bed and flipped it open, eyes still closed.

"Hullo?"

"Jim, where _are_ you? It's nearly five and I want you here for dinner, Sam says he might be coming over."

"_That's_ likely, mom," muttered Kirk. "Uh, okay, I'll be right home."

"Hurry, dear. Where are you?"

Hazy, Kirk glanced around. He took a moment to recognize the room he was asleep in. "At Bones's."

"Invite him and his parents over too, will you? I accidentally made quite a lot of food."

"_Accidentally_?"

"I was trying recipes and one thing led to another. Just ask, Jim."

"Okay, okay."

"And get home!"

"Okay! Bye!" Kirk snapped the communicator shut and sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily. "Lights."

Bones's bedroom came into focus and color. Kirk frowned at the room in general; it was disturbingly clean, unnatural for a high school student. There was a PADD sitting on the nightstand that had evidently been set to activate when the lights came on. It lit up and started beeping gently. Kirk picked it up.

Bones had written:

_Jim,_

_Went to play tennis with Christine at one. You're still not awake and I am unwilling to waste precious time kicking your lazy ass out of my house. Get out when you wake up. I let my parents know you were here. They won't be too freaked out by the sight of you, depending on how bad your bed-head is. Might call you later,_

_Bones_

"Such a sweet, mild-mannered friend," said Kirk quietly. He replaced the PADD and left Bones's room. David and Ian, Bones's fathers, were in the living room, reading. They stood to greet Kirk when he appeared.

"It's been too long," said David, smiling kindly at Kirk before giving him a tight hug. He was tall—less tall than Kirk remembered, of course—with messy blond hair and Bones's bright blue eyes. "You've grown so much! How's Winona? How was Iowa?"

"Mom's fine, Iowa was terrible," said Kirk, realizing that David's face was much more worn than he expected it to be. Ian shook Kirk's hand firmly. He was even taller than David, with dark brown hair laced with gray and deep-set hazel eyes. The frowning natural set of Ian's mouth was the same as Bones's, Kirk noticed. "Are you two interested in dinner at our house?"

"That would be wonderful, but one of our friends already invited us to eat," said Ian. "Maybe another time?"

"Definitely," said Kirk. "Sorry I overstayed my welcome. I didn't expect Bones to just leave me like this."

"He had a date," said David, crow's feet wrinkling around his eyes. "Evidently Christine Chapel was willing to barter tennis for an evening at the movie theater."

"Oh, cool," said Kirk, mostly happy for Bones, but just a little jealous. Christine, to him, was a great girl, with a nice, weird sense of humor and _huge…_ lips. Plus, when they'd been talking to him about anatomy the other day, she'd told him some really interesting stuff about the Gräfenberg spot. Still, he felt protective of Bones.

"I should go," Kirk said regretfully. "Mom might kill me if I don't get home soon."

"I'm sorry," said David. "Go ahead, tell her we said hi. And let her know that we'd love to have dinner some time, just call!"

"Can do. Thanks for having me. Bye!"

Outside, Kirk swung onto his motorcycle and revved the engine, finally wide awake.

x

Bones and Chapel were evenly matched tennis players. Chapel barely beat him. They had to play an extra round since they'd ended up tied at four-four after the first eight games. They staggered off the court, gulping down water. Chapel's whole body was buzzing from the adrenaline. She felt like she'd just had large quantities of energetic, euphoric sex.

"Want to go to the Shore Leave?" Bones panted, leaning on his racket outside of the court. It was three in the afternoon and they were both sweating profusely.

"I would kill a man for a frappe," said Chapel. "Yes, please."

They talked over coffee for nearly three hours. By the end of it, Chapel felt more confused than anything. She liked how Bones was polite and sweet, how he treated her like porcelain. But she couldn't forget their tennis match. They had both played brutally, slamming the ball across the court as if they were taking revenge on it. Bones had seemed so _intense_ then, as if his soul were bared whenever he picked up a tennis ball, but now, he was covered back up, sarcastic but gentle, always hovering, which was nice enough, but not quite as sexy.

Neither of them said a thing about going on a date. The moment had passed into companionship, and they parted on friendly terms. Back at her house, Chapel ate her dinner distractedly. All she could focus on was the moment, late in the final game, when Bones's fingers had tightened so relentlessly on his racket that his knuckles turned white, then purple. He had missed the volley and she had moved to advantage. When she scored the final point, his hands loosened, and in response, something inside of her loosened too.

x

I-Chaya started growling five minutes before Amanda got home, giving Spock and Uhura time to disentangle themselves and pretend to be absorbed in homework. Uhura kept shooting Spock shy smiles, and Spock kept touching her wrist. Uhura liked when he did that. Actually, she liked it whenever he touched her.

Spock was pleased. He had not planned on entering into a relationship with Uhura so early in their friendship. He had considered asking her out eventually—not quite so _quickly_—but he was fine with the way things had worked out. He was drunk on her collarbones, her lips, her legs. He had never really appreciated the female physique before this; he had been too young to fully understand why he was attracted to Yvette, and Evan, his recent conquest, was male. Now, though, he felt like singing the praises of any female who looked his way, Uhura especially. He was infatuated.

Amanda disappeared into deeper parts of the house when she returned from shopping, leaving the two mostly alone again. They were more cautious. They sat close to each other, textbooks open in their laps, stealing kisses between problems.

They were fascinated by their differences. He ran his mouth over his ears, nibbling the curved top, small scraps of ear wax bitter on his tongue. She traced his sweeping eyebrows with soft fingers, pressing butterfly kisses to his eyelids, massaging the tips of his ears. She playfully tried to curve his lips into a smile, and he moved back, eyes wide and full of laughter, even though he didn't move his mouth out of its impassive line. He watched her face morph through a thousand feelings, thoughts flickering across her visage like words on a screen. She was strangely easy to read. He could feel devotion in there, loyalty and determination. And a deep, slightly unstable passion. She was obsessive, he could tell. It should have bothered him, but it didn't. Instead, he felt honored by her attentions.

Finally, Uhura's father summoned her home. She said goodbye to Amanda and kissed Spock farewell on his doorstep, promising with fluttering eyelashes to study her Vulcan hard that night, watching him to see if he was aware of the double entendre. He was faintly disturbed by the implications of her words. He had never considered himself an object of desire, much less something to fantasize about during self-stimulation. Eyebrows slightly creased, he watched her walk away, heading for the bus stop on the main road. Her house was close by, only about five minutes from his by car, but a full thirty on foot.

Sarek and Amanda asked Spock a number of questions about Uhura that night during supper. They seemed to approve of her. Amanda couldn't shake the feeling that Spock only liked the girl because she liked him, and Sarek had always thought his son had expressed homosexual tendencies and was not compatible with a female. But they were supportive of their son, telling him to invite Uhura over for dinner soon.

Uhura told her father Chane all about Spock over dinner. Chane had heard quite a bit about Spock already, and he was happy that his daughter had finally captured the boy. He was interested in talking to him in detail. Uhura promised to bring Spock around the next day.

Sunday was a lazy day for the Hoverclub. Scotty decided to abandon physical labor on the _Enterprise_ for now. She had to be rebuilt almost entirely, so he spent most of the day coming up with possible designs. Spock and Uhura studied at Uhura's house for hours, actually getting a bit of homework done between kisses. Kirk, whose brother had not showed up for dinner, was forced by Winona to help her unpack the house. Sulu, Chekov, Gaila, Bones, and Chapel met up at the Shore Leave late in the day.

Monday morning dawned bright and cool. Kirk showered, complaining to himself about having to unpack all day yesterday and massaging his muscles bitterly. He was preoccupied by self-pity while he motored to school, weaving in and out of traffic. He parked at the high school and was walking inside when he happened to glance towards a dragon tree on the grass quad near the back cafeteria entrance. He stopped in his tracks, staring, as Spock leaned down to kiss Uhura deeply.

He stumbled into English and clutched at Bones, who was talking to Chapel.

"_Spock_ and _Nyota_?" he demanded in a high-pitched voice.

"Yup," said Bones gloomily. "They're attached at the lip. Happened at Hikaru's."

"_What?_ You couldn't have told me this _earlier_? Like maybe when we were _at_ Hikaru's?"

"When we were at Hikaru's I didn't _know_. Scotty and Christine told me, after you'd died in my bed. And I didn't see you all yesterday. You jealous?"

"Of course not! She can have him, for all I care!"

Bones gave him a strange look. "I was talkin' about bein' jealous of Spock. For havin' Nyota."

"Oh. Well. Yes." Kirk growled at himself; why was he stumbling? "She is nice to look at, and all. I don't get it, though! Nyota seems so—_reasonable_."

"Jim, that's why he likes her. She's not _insane_, like some people I could name."

"Subtle as a Bludger, aren't you? I just don't see what they have in common."

"You don't know either of 'em very well, then. Nyota's just about the calmest, most careful girl I ever knew. She has her candid moments, and she can be oddly helpful, but other 'n that, exceptin' the sense of humor and the temper, she's Spock's twin."

"_Weird_," said Kirk fervently. He was watching Spock and Uhura walk into class, hand in hand.

"Don't overexert yourself, kid," said Bones, slapping Kirk on the shoulder. "Sit, bell's about to ring."

Kirk watched Spock and Uhura for the rest of class, immersed in the _wrongness_ of it. No matter what Bones said, he didn't see Spock and Uhura lasting a week. He didn't even think about why he was so up in arms about the matter.

When they had made it to their second month anniversary, Kirk would look back and want to slap himself in the face.

x


	13. Chapter 13: A Taste of Armageddon

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Thirteen: A Taste of Armageddon_

x

_Monday night_

x

George Samuel Kirk, Jr., had never been very responsible. He was much like his younger brother: extremely bright, impetuous, and interested in troublemaking. But while Jim was even-handed, keeping his temper simmering at a normal level, Sam had no patience at all. Six years ago, when Jim was eleven and Sam was fourteen, Sam had had one last argument with their stepfather, Franklin Sanford, and left home. Winona, who was off-planet at the time, didn't find out until she got back from Regulus IV, six months later. Jim had never forgiven Sam for leaving, but that didn't mean he was unhappy to see his brother finally knocking on his front door.

Jim threw the door open and hugged Sam tightly. Sam was a bearded, taller version of Jim, heaver and more confident. Sam introduced the woman accompanying him, an elegant, sweet-eyed brunette, as Aurelan Swift. She smiled nervously at Jim and shook his hand.

Winona bustled over, slapping Sam on the arm for not showing up two days earlier for dinner like he'd said he would. Then she hugged him too, and greeted Aurelan. The four ventured into the living room.

In the past six years, Jim had only been with Sam for seven days. Sam had returned to Riverside for a week after Frank finally moved out, four years ago. At first, Jim had been entirely unwilling to talk to him, but by the end of their time together, they had reconciled.

Sam had hitched a ride to Chicago the day of his last argument with Frank and started school there as an emancipated minor. He'd worked a number of odd jobs until he'd gotten hired as an assistant in a private biological research lab. He'd been arrested twenty times before he turned eighteen despite having responsibility pressed upon him at a young age. But now, with Aurelan next to him, he seemed calmer. Evidently she had slowed his headstrong rush.

"We're living in Austin," said Sam. "The university there's got me running an evolutionary biology lab. Aurelan's a student in astrophysics. We came here for a joint job interview with Starfleet; they're thinking about sending us to Earth Colony II."

"How long have you two been together, now?" asked Winona.

"Ever since I moved down to Texas a year ago," said Sam, smiling at Aurelan. He looked at his mother, eyes glittering. "I was extra motivated to take that interview with Starfleet—I've got news for you, mom. We're pregnant."

Winona squealed and threw her arms around Sam and Aurelan, who laughed happily. Jim was frozen for a moment, but recovered quickly, standing to shake Sam's hand. The embryo was only at a month and a half, but they already had names picked out. Winona threw a fit, going into a grandmotherly frenzy. She drew Aurelan away to grill her about her family and history, wanting to get to know the mother of her grandchild. Sam and Jim were left on the couch while the women wandered into the kitchen.

"You're old," said Jim without preamble.

"I am," agreed Sam, a distant smile gracing his features. "I am ancient. Elderly. Jim, I'm going to be a _father_. How weird is that?"

"Really, really weird," said Jim, realizing that _he_ was going to be an uncle. "Especially considering you'll always be fourteen to me. Fourteen and just as tired of Frank as I was."

"Ugh. Don't even bring him into this conversation," said Sam, making a face. "I'm _happy_ right now. Did you see her? Isn't she just the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"You're biased."

"Damn straight I'm biased. We're considering getting married."

"Woah now, don't get too ahead of yourself."

"No, really. I've already applied to be the second parent. We could just skip the process and have the child in wedlock."

"You're really interested in marrying her? Before I give my blessing, tell me a little more about Aurelan."

They talked through dinner and for hours afterwards. When Sam and Aurelan finally had to leave, Jim had to admit that he was sad to see his brother go.

x

Sulu had fixed Chekov dinner in repayment for Chekov's breakfast. They were at Sulu's house again, eating ravioli out of cooking bowls. Sulu wasn't very good at cooking, so he viewed the ravioli as more of an experiment in surface area to volume ratio. Only half of the ravioli had turned out well (Sulu had stuffed them himself), so he had dumped the failures in a bowl for his parents and emailed them that dinner was ready. They had just gotten back from wherever they had been. He'd only noticed when he'd seen their cars in the driveway earlier.

"Why do you talk so little with your parents?" Chekov asked after taking a long drink of water.

"We don't have much in common," said Sulu, spearing a ravioli. "You might see them at some point. I let them know I made dinner."

"Is it not strange to be so far from your parents?"

"You get used to it," said Sulu, shrugging. "When I was younger, it bothered me. But I'm really self-sufficient now."

"Then they haf always been like this?"

"Basically. Miko and Inoue raised me."

Chekov frowned. "I haf an older brother and two younger sisters, and we are close, but our parents take care of us. They do not—"

Chekov paused, hearing footsteps. He saw Sulu straighten a little, some hardness going into his eyes. A slim Japanese man with long black hair walked into the kitchen. He looked at Chekov only for a moment before turning to Sulu and speaking to him in Japanese.

Sulu replied shortly. Sulu's father did not respond, simply taking the remaining ravioli and two forks with him as he left the room.

"What did he say?" said Chekov.

"He told me to ask them anytime I invite somebody over," said Sulu, stabbing a pasta viciously.

Chekov did not know quite what to say. He sipped his water, watching as Sulu rubbed his creased forehead with a tired hand.

x

Chapel was texting Uhura.

_idek where we're going_, she typed, glancing sideways at Bones to make sure he couldn't see that she was on her PADD. _hows your dinner?_

_ack_, Uhura responded almost immediately. _we havent started yet, im in the restrm hiding from sarek, that man is scary_

_sympathy. at least you got your loverboy._

_youre working on yours though. ;)_

Chapel flipped off the PADD, the corners of her lips upturned slightly. Bones was taking her out to dinner. He hadn't said where, and for some reason, she didn't ask. He was heading towards the financial district. They had been talking about their medical class until Bones's dad had called to ask him something. For some reason, that had broken the conversation of.

Bones shelled out for valet at Tabac, a mid-price place Chapel had heard about but never been to. It had a great atmosphere. All of the décor was done in various shades of brown and all of the food dishes were extremely colorful. When they were seated and had ordered drinks, Bones mentioned that they didn't serve brown food—the meals were dyed.

The fare was standard American. Chapel ordered shrimp, Bones tried grilled chicken. They didn't say much to each other, but what they said had meaning.

Chapel was always getting flustered, and tonight was no exception. She cared very much about other people and was obvious to read, even though she tried to remain neutral and expressionless as much as possible. Everybody liked her, but just as much, everybody liked to see her flustered, since she widened her eyes and stuttered in that deep voice of hers, so they teased her about her strong emotions. She knew she had been a fool around Spock for the past few years, and now she was starting to be that way around Bones. But she wasn't sure if he knew it or not. She was never sure exactly how much other people could tell about her.

Bones was perceptive, but he thought naïvely that Chapel was just being friendly. He was used to her stumbling over her words, accustomed to the elegant trip of her voice as her thoughts fell apart. She'd always been like that around Spock, but he hadn't put everything together yet.

Plus, he was too busy being confused by the two people he was currently attracted to. One of them was sitting in front of him, smiling nervously, and the other was the last man he'd kissed.

x

Uhura was having an interesting evening, to say the very least. Sarek absolutely terrified her. She felt like latching on to Spock or Amanda and using them as shields. The man didn't seem to blink. He was completely unlike Sinor, the only other Vulcan she'd had prolonged contact with. Even though Vulcans were members of the Federation, humans only saw their comrades on television or in news releases, rarely in person, and even more rarely one-on-one. The problem with Sarek was not that he was physically intimidating, it was that he didn't _say_ much, and what he did say seemed very, very important, so every word she gave in reply had to be carefully thought out beforehand. Uhura had always known what to say in any situation and was unused to putting effort into her speech, but Sarek had taken her apart, and trying to put herself back together over was proving difficult.

Amanda had made a meat dish for herself and Uhura, telling Uhura she generally kept with the Vulcan vegetarian diet but occasionally craved flesh and had taken advantage of having another human at the dining table. Evidently Vulcans served a number of courses at their meals, because there had been a salad, a soup, a bread, and now an entrée, each with its own set of dishes and alarming time between courses for Uhura to deal with Sarek.

Dinner was in the formal dining room at a huge gold oak table. Spock's family was well off, and their house was large, but their decorations were simply… different. Instead of china cabinets or artwork, the room had been painted a pale red-brown. Gold and black swirls of Vulcan calligraphy and artwork, some in bas-relief, climbed the walls, arching on to the ceiling and growing out to form light fixtures and full sculptures. The chandelier above the table was one of the most beautiful things Uhura had ever seen; the Vulcan words (and derivatives thereof) for _family_, _love_, and _logic_ sprung from the ceiling into 3D calligraphy that curled around light sources and dripped almost to the surface of the table. There was a matching centerpiece on the table, wrought of crystal: the word _concentration_ twisted and swirled upwards, weaving into the dripping light.

Amanda scooped duck lo mein onto a plate for Uhura, I-Chaya nudging pointedly at her arm. Spock and Sarek were waiting to start on their vegetarian dish. Sarek turned to Uhura once more, asking her what her parents did for a living. She explained that she lived with one parent, her father, since her mother had left him years ago. He was an African literature professor at Berkley. Sarek said something about David Gbadamosi, a prominent 21st century philosopher who Uhura knew her father was interested in. They talked about his theory of threes for a while. Uhura even forgot about her food.

When Sarek paused to eat, Uhura realized why Sarek was such an incredible diplomat. He had the unexpected ability to command a situation. He had wanted her to be intimidated at first, she guessed, and now she had passed some kind of test and he was being less terrifying.

Spock shot her a half smile. She felt much better.

x

_Tuesday night_

x

"It's jus'—" Scotty mumbled through the corned beef in his mouth "—that ah can't understand what he sees in you." He stopped chewing for a moment, eyes going wide. Panicking, he waved his hands around, spitting flecks of bread into the air in his hurry to retract his statement. "Not that ah mean you're not incredible, lass! Ach, damnit…"

Uhura laughed instead of taking offense. Her sense of humor was surprisingly fluid. "I know what you mean, Monty," she said, taking a distinctively delicate bite of her pizza. "He always has a goal, doesn't he? He doesn't just _do_ things."

"Aye, that's what ah was tryin' t' say."

"I'm sure. Well, to be perfectly honest, I don't feel like I know him that well yet. I know him as _Spock_, but not as my _boyfriend_."

"It'd probably take quite some time t' crack his shell," said Scotty wisely. "You havenae talked about what happened at Hikaru's, have yeh?"

"No, how could I? What do you think it was, anyway?"

Scotty shrugged. "Ah have no idea. Vulcan emotions run deep, in thin streams. Our feelin's may be a wide river t' cross, but ours're shallow compared to theirs."

"What is it with men and dangerous waters? D'you think all Vulcans have to be put on suicide watch at some point in their lives just because they think so much?"

"Wouldnae surprise me. But he is only half Vulcan, maybe that has somethin' t' do with it. He mentioned bein' bullied when he was a young lad. Maybe he didnae fit in."

"Spock, being at all concerned by social mores? Do you even know who you're talking about?"

He shrugged again. "Vulcans are _extremely_ concerned by social mores, jus' not our own. Their society is stricter than ours. Maybe his piece couldnae fit in th' puzzle, so he broke himself tryin' t' conform."

x

Bones needed to clean his room. If he had voiced this thought aloud to Kirk, Kirk would have tried to take his temperature. The place looked spotless, but Bones could tell there was dust on the bookshelves and the carpet could use a vacuuming. He didn't let the caretaking robots in to clean, preferring to disinfect on his own time. He was always going to be a germaphobe.

Bones's room was painted and carpeted a deep blue, the same color as the science officer uniforms in Starfleet. Bones's goal was work for Starfleet on some lush, tropical outer planet packed with organic potential, discovering cures for the major sicknesses of his day, like Yaralt's Disease and the rack. He was skeptical about space—more than skeptical, actually, since he got motion sickness every time he went off planet—and had absolutely no desire to crew a Starfleet vessel, but if the Federation could get him to somewhere he could be useful, he'd be glad to go.

His fathers were out for their twenty-seventh anniversary dinner. Bones was eating thieboudienne out of a leftovers sack; he'd made too much of it for dinner a few nights ago. He'd been chatting with Chapel and Sulu earlier. He'd told Sulu about his situation, and Sulu had been most unhelpful, trying not to give advice in that damned considerate way of his when what he needed was _actual advice_. He was considering asking Uhura, but she was preoccupied with Spock, and what the hell was that about? Who knew Spock could keep up with Uhura? Dating Evan Gray, who had the personality of a whelk, had just about worn Spock down. And anyway, he was being unreasonably mad at anybody who liked Spock at the moment, since Kirk had so obviously been more worried about Spock being taken off the market than Uhura, and didn't that sonofabitch like _him_, Bones, the guy he'd made out with for an hour and a half four nights ago? Then again, Bones had told him that he wasn't interested in a relationship. But he'd realized pretty quickly he'd been lying to himself. The day of the race, Bones couldn't stop thinking about the opportunity he'd missed. He had never had sex with a man before, but he was sure willing to try it now.

x

Kirk twirled his straw in his drink, gazing lovingly at the woman sitting across from him. Helen Noel was a truly beautiful girl. She had a mischievous face framed by dark, wavy hair and bright brown eyes. She looked like she could give him a run for his money in just about anything, and if there was anything Kirk liked, it was competition.

She was in most of his AP classes. Her elective was psychology, which fascinated him. He loved psychiatrists and psychologists. He saw them as practice in strategy and tactics. Whenever he went to one—which was often, as a condition of the suicide watch placed on his medical record—he played an elaborate little game with them, hiding information in replies and holding out tasty tidbits of inner angst. Most of the psychologists never realized that he was playing a game. There had been one, an Orion a few years ago, who had grasped what was going on and nearly figured him out, but the session had ended not a moment too soon, and he'd requested a different shrink for his next appointment.

Helen was clever, guessing his intentions immediately. Their dinner was short and to the point, but in her bed that night, they took their time.

x

"How are you?" Winona asked Pike, passing him the lasagna. He took it quietly, shrugging. "Come on," she said. "Have you at least talked to her?"

"Yes, I have," he said. "The situation is insane. The baby isn't hers. She's surrogating again."

"Oh, god, really? For who?"

"You don't even want to know," said Pike, shaking mozzarella angrily onto his pasta.

"I do," said Winona gently. She touched Pike's hand. "Tell me, Chris."

Pike sighed heavily, falling back in his chair. They were at Winona's, at the small dining table in the whitewashed kitchen, the bright automatic lights shadowing their faces unattractively.

"It's Barda and Ezar's child," he said, resentment in his voice. "They chose her as surrogate. She was well qualified, intelligent, and knew Barda's family. Plus, her ex-husband was on the Supreme Court, remember? So she's influential. And they figure it'll be really significant that the child will have been gestated in a human womb."

Winona gaped at Pike. "Are you supposed to be telling me this? I mean, the press has been speculating for _ages_ on who the surrogate is."

"I trust you," said Pike. "No, I'm not supposed to be telling you, but fucking _whatever_. I'm too mad right now."

"This child is going to cement the negotiations."

"Certainly. The first famous Romulan/Vulcan infant, conceived by Vice President Barda and Counsel Ezar, carried by a human, delivered during the peace talks."

Winona shook her head. "Barda and Ezar never found about what happened with you and her?"

"Maybe they did and just didn't care," said Pike. "It wasn't a big deal."

"Not a big deal? She got reassigned because of the incident. And look what it did to you!"

"Julie Eleen can do whatever the hell she wants," said Pike viciously. "I don't think she's the right person for the job, but if Barda and Ezar want to trust their precious child to her, then so be it. I'll tell you, though, she hasn't changed a bit. She acted all ignorant the other day, when Kirk was up on the stand, like she didn't know who he was or what she was going to do with him, or even who _I_ was. She's a player. She's not to be trusted." He sliced his lasagna down the middle, tomato sauce and ricotta spilling graphically out of the folds. "She betrayed me, and I'll never forgive her."

x

_Wednesday night_

x

Winona cooked antelope steaks the next night. Bones's family was coming over. She made Kirk clean the living, bath, and dining rooms until they positively sparkled. The kitchen she had dealt with while Kirk was at school. It looked like a tamed, meek lion, considering how messy it had been before.

"You'd better appreciate the grandeur of this place," said Kirk, waving at the house after Bones and his family had come in. Winona was talking to David and Ian. "I spent _hours_ on it. We hadn't given it a good clean since we moved in. There was _elbow grease_, Bones. My wrists are killing me."

"You poor thing," said Bones. "Are your wittle fingers tired too? Do you need to rest them?"

"Monster. You have no sympathy."

David and Ian and Winona talked mainly with each other, although the adults would interrupt Kirk and Bones occasionally to annoy them with questions about school. Bones didn't mind—talking to Kirk over dinner gave Bones an opportunity to watch Kirk's mouth. Kirk, noticing this, made as much of his asparagus as possible. Bones went red.

After the meal, Winona poured chardonnay for the men and Kirk and Bones retreated to Kirk's room.

Bones sat himself on the bed next to Kirk. "What d'you think about Chapel?" he asked Kirk.

"She's great," said Kirk seriously. "You two should date." _No, you shouldn't. I think I might rather date you_.

"She _is_ great," agreed Bones. He paused, not sure how to segue into the next thing he wanted to say. "Hey, Jim?"

"Huh?" Kirk was checking his PADD for emails.

Bones put his hand on Kirk's thigh. "Would you mind—"

Kirk put the PADD down, staring at Bones's hand. There was a flicker of something in his eye, as if he had changed his mind. He looked oddly resigned.

"Haven't had any action in a while?" he said blandly.

"You're the third person I ever kissed, Jim. Can you blame me?"

"Good to know I've influenced you so badly." Kirk moved towards him. Bones felt goosebumps on his arms.

"Kiss me, you idiot," hissed Bones, grabbing Kirk by the back of the neck.

"Yes, _Doctor_," whispered Kirk, licking the soft inside of Bones's lips. Bones couldn't stand it. He surged forwards, devouring Kirk's mouth, fucking Kirk's lips with his tongue.

Bones pressed Kirk back onto Kirk's bed, straddling him, trying to ignore how submissive and quiet Kirk seemed. Bones wasn't hesitating, now. He tore at Kirk's shirt, ripping the collar as he tugged it off, and sat up to take off his own, Kirk panting underneath him. He came back down, kissing Kirk hard, fumbling at Kirk's pants.

He felt the limpness in Kirk's muscles, the way Kirk pushed at him weakly and kissed him back tentatively. All of it was in stark contrast to Kirk's tent-pole erection. Bones got the zipper down and brushed him through his boxers, ghosting his thin fingers up Kirk's length, and Kirk arched automatically, eyes wide and dull. Bones stopped, pulling back, glaring at the boy laid out before him.

"What is it?" he growled into Kirk's ear, a fist in Kirk's hair. "Dammit, Jim, what's wrong with you tonight?"

"I don't know," said Kirk hollowly. He wasn't looking at Bones.

Bones rolled off of him, eyes narrowed.

"You're not excited about havin' sex with me? Is that what it is?"

"I guess," whispered Kirk. He closed his eyes tightly.

Insulted, Bones got up and pulled his shirt back on.

"If you wouldn't be such a goddamn slut, shit like this wouldn't happen," Bones snapped, throwing the words at Kirk. They hit hard, and Kirk curled up a little.

Bones sighed disgustedly and left the room and the house, dragging his parents with him.

While Winona cleaned up the kitchen, Kirk laid in bed, in the same position Bones had left him in. He _liked_ Bones, it turned out; but Bones had just reminded him—had just reminded him of—

He clenched his teeth, pushing the memories back. He felt like he was about to break.

x

Spock was picking up dinner from Suzy's. He had a lot of homework that night and Amanda had gone to visit one of her friends in L. A. Sarek had passed responsibility for supper onto Spock, strongly recommending to his son that he make or obtain baked potatoes. Which led to Spock hovering near the Suzy's pick-up counter, waiting for his meal.

He glanced through the trellis blocking the counter from the restaurant and saw half of a familiar face. He moved back, so that the trellis was no longer in his way, and saw Sulu sitting with Chekov not too far from him. The restaurant was quiet and Spock's excellent ears could easily pick up what the two boys were saying.

Sulu's expression was hovering on the verge of anger, but Chekov didn't seem to notice.

"… and she said she was wery happy to meet me in _detail_, and I thought it was nice of her to greet me so cheerfully. And she inwited me back to her house and we had a wonderful time."

"Did you," said Sulu coldly, his nostrils flaring.

"Yes, wonderful," Chekov repeated innocently. "She is wery talented with the oral sex, and I—"

"Okay, stop," said Sulu, slamming his fist on the table. Chekov jumped, startled. "You had _sex_ with Gaila."

"Yes…? What is the matter with this? I haf heard it is her way of saying hello."

"It _is_. But. God, Pavel. It's Gaila. _Everybody's_ had Gaila. You couldn't keep it in your pants for somebody special?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Never mind," snarled Sulu. "I'm full. And I'm leaving. Bye."

He slid out of the booth and walked away, leaving a shocked Chekov in his wake. Spock turned his face slightly to face the wall as Sulu stalked by.

_Fascinating_, thought Spock, watching Chekov begin to cry over his dinner. He considered attempting to comfort the boy, but his food had arrived, and he took it and left without a second glance at Chekov.

x

_Thursday night_

x

"Scotty got the plans approved."

"Did he? How do they look?"

"Beautiful. He was showing them to Spock during study hall." Chapel took a drink of Dr. Pepper. "The thrusters are going to be about four times as powerful."

"Awesome. More work for us, then. I've got tennis all next week. And a boyfriend."

"Still starry eyed?"

"Glittering." Uhura swirled her soup with her spoon. "I am utterly ridiculous, let me tell you."

"Oh, you don't need to tell me. Hey, did you notice Hikaru ignoring Pavel today?"

"Yeah, I forgot to mention—Hikaru found out about Gaila and Pavel."

"He didn't know already?"

"Nope. He had the _worst_ reaction. Spock was telling me about it. Evidently he saw the whole thing last night at Suzy's. Hikaru just _left_, in the middle of dinner."

"How unreasonable!"

"I know, but love is crazy, isn't it?"

"Totally fucking insane."

Uhura laughed. "Humans don't make any sense at all. The only way for us to win is not to play."

"Says you."

"What, you think love is winnable?"

"_You_ think it's about winning and losing?"

"That's not what I'm saying. Just—a successful relationship is one in which somebody _dies_. Doesn't that seem strange?"

"Not really. If you're happy when the game is over, you've won. It's been worthwhile. I thought you were a hopeless romantic."

"Yeah, but in the tragic sense. I have become less hopeless of late."

"Spock's not making you worse?"

"I have him now. I don't have to angst. It's just—it's really great being in love. You get to feel all these intense emotions that you don't get to feel otherwise. You can have the whole range of it—despair, elation, rage, obsession—and if you're really lucky, sex gets tossed into the equation."

"So, you're an emotions-whore. That _totally_ explains why you're dating a Vulcan."

"Well, Monty was telling me their emotions are—different. They _have_ to be logical or they're totally irrational; their passions rule everything."

"Intense. So, what, you're trying to break him?"

"Break him? I'm not trying to do anything but _learn_ him. I wouldn't harm a hair on his head."

"What if he asked you to?"

"What?"

"Well—if he told you to hurt him."

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"Kinks. Fetishes. Deep down dirty dark."

"You are so creepy."

"What a twenty-first century thing to say. Come on, I know you like ball gags."

"But do you have to say it so loudly? We're in a _public place_."

"What, BALL GAGS?"

"Shut UP."

"Okay, sorry. See, this is what I'm talking about. You have an emotional kink. Have you considered what his kinks may be?"

"Yeah, _no_, but what does that even have to do with anything?"

Chapel looked frustrated. "Never mind. You're so dumb."

"You bitch." They were quiet. "Want to watch a movie at my house?"

"Sure. Let's go."

x

Sulu showed up at Chekov's door, a repentant expression on his face. Chekov ushered him inside and to the dining room table. He had made fish soup, pelmeny, and apple pastries.

"I want to apologize for whatewer it is I did to hurt your feelings," said Chekov, sitting Sulu down at the table. Sulu sprang back up again, stammering apologies.

"No, I'm so sorry," he said to Chekov. "I shouldn't have freaked like that. I just—I guess I'm protective of you."

"Eweryone is protectiwe of me," said Chekov angrily, his curly hair falling over his eyes as he looked down. Sulu brushed it out of the way.

"Of course we are. You're a wonderful friend, Pavel," said Sulu sincerely. "Now, you can screw whoever you want to, as long as they don't hurt you. I'm sorry I didn't understand earlier. I'm just not good with one night stands."

Chekov hugged Sulu tightly, surprising him and forcing the air from his lungs.

"I am glad to haf you, Hikaru," he said, looking up at Sulu. "Now, do you want dinner? I haf made it myself."

Smiling, Sulu sat back down, Chekov next to him. Sulu decided he could take his time.

x

"This is the boy I was telling you about, dear," Amanda whispered in Sarek's ear as they walked up the pathway to Kirk's house.

"Is he," said Sarek, raising an eyebrow. "I shall watch him closely, then."

Winona greeted Sarek formally. Kirk blinked at Spock's father, immediately intimidated. Sarek was not as harsh to Kirk as he was to Uhura, but he talked to Kirk more, and did not allow Kirk to feel comfortable until Winona fetched dessert.

Kirk and Spock had architected an uneasy truce during study hall that day so that they could dine together without attempting to bite each other's heads off. But they bickered lightly despite the agreement instead of having an actual conversation.

"You mean you think the crystals have to go next to the primary? But that doesn't even make sense. You don't lose anything in the radium coils."

"In hovercar racing, the finish sometimes comes down to fractions of seconds, James. The milliseconds lost between the crystals and the thrusters could easily be regained."

"Don't patronize me—_fractions of seconds_. We _can't _move the crystals closer to the primary. The heat is too high."

"If we obtain an archanite shield—"

"Those are _so cheap_ and we're on such a _huge_ budget. Are you _actually_ crazy?"

Spock did the Vulcan version of rolling his eyes, which was subtle, but Kirk could see it. They started off again, ignoring their food in favor of conflict.

Amanda winked at Winona. Then she had to kick Sarek under the table to keep him from asking about the purpose of the gesture she had just executed. Like father, like son.

x


	14. Chapter 14: The Squire of Gothos

A/N: Just watched _Star Trek III: The Search for Spock_. God that movie ships Spock/Bones so hard.

What happens with Bones and—uh, well, you'll see, is entirely the fault of rosemarysaurus who came up with _the_ best idea on the _planet_.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Fourteen: The Squire of Gothos_

x

It was not a good day.

The Hoverclub were resting around the remains of the _Enterprise_, exhausted and covered in grease. It was seven o'clock on Friday night and all of them, even Spock and Scotty, wished they were somewhere else. Only Pike was still standing, leaning bonelessly against the pillar framing the entrance to the shop garage. They were quiet except for heavy breathing.

Scotty let out a long breath. "Shall we start again, youse? The hull's goin' t' be impossible for less than eight t' remove."

Everybody groaned. Kirk jumped up and helped people their feet, avoiding Bones, who stumbled upright on his own. They gathered around the back of the hovercar, accepting the tools that Scotty passed around silently. Spock took the Phillips laser and bent down, jimmying it into a slot near the license plate holder. (The unharmed license place, a remarkably tough piece of metal, had been removed, cleaned, and hung on the wall.) Scotty nodded and everyone wrapped his or her fingers around the rim of the hull plate, straining upwards. Spock activated the laser.

It took another fifteen minutes, but they finally got the hull off. Scotty backed away, wiping his hands. "I'll have t' work on a stronger alloy," he said. "This metal keeps warpin' from th' heat."

"Perhaps magnetized steel and gurian?" Chekov recommended, straightening from placing the hull on the floor.

Pike stepped forward. "Gurian is much too expensive," he said. "You're as bad as Spock, Pavel. At least you're not recommending archanite."

"Mr. Pike, archanite would be ideal for the purposes—"

"Spock, archanite costs thousands of credits per cubic foot. The administration has given us a generous budget, but unless we want to scrap the rest of the _ship_, we can't buy any archanite, much less enough to cover the entire primary."

Spock frowned. "Perhaps we could acquire enough funds to purchase the needed materials."

"Including the gurian," Pavel said quickly.

"Including the gurian," said Spock, "which, I believe, is even more crucial to the design than the archanite."

"We could go to Gothos," said Chapel. Everybody looked at her. "You know, the metallurgy company that contracts for Starfleet. They might offer us an—an educational discount, or something."

"Not a bad idea," said Pike. "I'll check in to it. Meanwhile, let's start deconstructing this engine. Scotty, are you ready to trash the hydrogen?"

"Ah am, sir," said Scotty, grinning. "Never liked th' stuff. Let's shift it, lads."

They spent the next hour disemboweling the belly of the _Enterprise_. Each part had to be removed from its casing, assessed, repaired or replaced, and cleaned before it could be fixed back in the hovercraft. They weren't going to get much done tonight. It would probably take fifteen more nights before they would finish, not counting whatever they had to do with the new casing and cockpit interior. The second race was in twenty-one days. They would be cutting it very close.

The next day was Saturday. Scotty convinced them to show up at nine to continue the deconstruction. Spock said he would be there at seven, which made Scotty's eyebrows shoot into his hair. They bargained it down to eight, Scotty still muttering about crazy Vulcans not needing any sleep. Pike, who had to be there at all times to supervise construction, bit back an anticipatory yawn.

To make matters worse, Bones sat bolt upright in a bed not his own the next morning. He stared straight ahead, well aware of the snoring, naked form beside him.

_Goddammit_, he thought, his heart attempting to beat its way out of his bare chest.

He steeled himself, took a breath, and looked.

_Yup_, he thought grimly. _That's who I suspected it was._

His companion rolled over, snuffling into a pillow. It was Scotty.

x

"Fuckin' alcohol," growled Bones, clutching his head, which was throbbing gently. The floor of Scotty's room was littered with beer bottles and blueprints. Evidently they had been going over the plans for the _Enterprise_. Bones didn't know; neither of them could remember a thing. But judging by the condoms in the trashcan and the soreness in their muscles, _something_ had happened.

Scotty, predictably, had already shrugged it off, which was driving Bones absolutely insane. The man was sitting there like nothing had _happened!_ Sure, it wasn't _Scotty's_ first time with a man, but it was sure _his_, and he was damned if he was going to let Scotty ignore it.

They were talking—well, Scotty was talking, and Bones was doing some yelling—when Scotty's PADD buzzed.

Bones caught a look at the screen before Scotty could snatch it away. It was a text from Uhura.

"Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego," whispered Bones. "Did you tell _Nyota_?"

"Nay," said Scotty, not meeting his eyes.

Bones flipped out. "YOU. TOLD. NYOTA. She's gonna tell _everybody_. Scotty, I'm goin' to have to kill you."

"Nay, you cannae, we have t' finish th' _Enterprise_!"

"Spock can do it on his own!" Bones reached strangling hands towards Scotty's neck. "_You demon_."

"Help!"

x

In reality, their hookup had been quite touching. Scotty had been worried about his precious hovercraft, and Bones had generously offered to take him out drinking. After about fourteen beers, Scotty had ended up crying on Bones's shoulder about his concern for the ship while Bones patted his back drunkenly. Their natural recourse was total nudity, which they had attempted in the bar (they were _that_ drunk), but they had been hastily thrown out. They hailed a taxi back to Scotty's (the traumatized driver had to be paid extra) and settled down to business.

Of course, neither of them remembered any of this. All Bones knew was that his _face_ was _sticky_, and what the _hell_ did that imply, and was Scotty _positive_ that he didn't remember anything? (Even if Scotty did remember anything, he sure wasn't going to tell Bones, not with a reaction like that from him.) After being chased around the kitchen table a couple of times, Scotty convinced Bones to back down and go take a shower. Bones acquiesced grudgingly and slammed his way into the bathroom. Scotty waited nervously for Bones to finish, cleaning up his room a bit and making sure his parents and siblings hadn't been woken up by the commotion. When Bones got out, Scotty made sure to have his clothes ready. Unsurprisingly, Bones kicked him out of the room while he got dressed, so Scotty went to take a shower.

They were dressed by seven forty five. Bones elected to go with Scotty, figuring that only Spock and Pike were going to be there, and neither of them were likely to rib Bones about it.

As it turned out, Uhura had roused everybody except for Kirk. When Scotty and Bones walked through the door to the shop together, Sulu and Chapel shot confetti at their heads. Bones nearly fainted. Scotty laughed uproariously. Spock merely looked detached.

They got started pretty quickly on the _Enterprise_ since Bones absolutely refused to speak or make eye contact with anybody and Scotty, utterly incorrigible, could only talk about how much work there was to be done. Everybody except for Bones noticed that Chapel was being frosty to Scotty. Bones was too busy brooding and dropping tools on his toes.

Kirk, who had been informed of the incident, appeared at nine. He had been invited to show earlier but was still feeling strange about Bones. He couldn't help but put a hand on Bones's shoulder, though, trying to comfort him. Bones shivered when he felt Kirk's hand and gave Kirk a rare, unreadable glance before returning to the components before him.

Since Kirk had arrived, Pike felt it was time to make the announcement.

"I got us an appointment with a manager at Gothos," he said, smiling. "They have plenty of what we need and are evidently quite willing to part with it at a discounted price. We're going at one thirty, after lunch."

Spock nearly smiled. Everybody else cheered.

They didn't know too much about Gothos; nobody did. The factory was located a few miles from San Francisco proper, hidden between some hills. The entrance was famous: Gothos had basically walled off the area between the hills with old-style rock. Arches were built in the wall that allowed passage to and from the factory. The entryways were protected by force fields that checked the identity whoever passed through them. Gothos was a primary cutter of diamond-edged tools, and so the Federation had allowed them such strong security.

They took the school transport out to the factory, parking it in a visitor's garage through the arches. A security android directed them inside through the main steel doors, which were also framed by a stone arch. Another android, a secretary, brought them to a luscious waiting room and told them it was very sorry but it would be a half an hour before they could see William Trelane, the manager Pike had spoken of.

Kirk couldn't resist exploring. He got up, ostensibly to find a bathroom. Chapel, to his slight dismay, came with him, but as soon as he said what he was up to, her face lit up and she declared her intentions to go with.

There were no humans in the halls. Evidently all of the office assistants were androids, well made but with the required display of robotic innards to prove that they were not human. Most of them had their synthetic flesh removed on their necks, but the security guards, who wore turtleneck uniforms, had no hair, just a glass casing over the innards of their skulls.

Kirk disliked androids and avoided them. Chapel, meanwhile, had never been around so many at once, and had a doctor's interest in studying their movement. Kirk had to drag her away from one that was working on the gear components in its arm. The androids took no notice of them, not even the security androids, whom Kirk had expected to question them about their authorization.

They reached a viewing room and saw their first humans. A short man and a redheaded woman dressed in work-professional were talking quietly in front of a large pane of glass that overlooked the factory floor. Kirk and Chapel tried to move back when they entered the room, but the man saw them, and turned.

"Can I help you?" he said, not unkindly.

"Uh," said Kirk, wishing he'd brought a change of clothes like everybody else. His shirt was covered unattractively in grease and sweat, his thin jacket doing little to hide the mess.

"Um, yes," said Chapel, who could see that Kirk wasn't going to be any help. "I'm sorry, we were here with our teacher to talk to Mr. Trelane about parts for the hovercar we're building, but we seem to have gotten lost. Can you direct us to his office?"

"Yes, of course," said the man. "Wait just a moment, June. If you go—"

There was a sudden, horrible noise from the factory floor. The man whipped around, dashing back to see what was happening. The woman had whipped out her communicator and was talking rapidly into it.

"Observation here. Model echo whiskey forty seven did not take the uplink, repeat, model echo whiskey forty seven, automation broken. The robot is destroying part of the assembly. Security units to factory floor."

"Damn," growled the man. "We should have scraped forty seven when it first gave us trouble."

The woman, June, glared at him. "We spent millions of credits prototyping that line," she snapped. "I wasn't about to authorize its destruction just because it wouldn't take to its programming."

Her communicator squawked. "Floor here. Echo forty seven attempting to destroy security androids. Can't you override this?"

"IT should be working on it."

"IT's electricity flickered a couple of minutes ago, they're trying to get back online!"

"_What_? But—they're the ones—"

Kirk and Chapel watched as the man and the woman were swarmed by androids. They gave out fast, professional instructions. Kirk and Chapel snuck forward until they could see what was happening on the factory floor.

A large, blocky-looking robot painted a deep red had swung itself out of a furnace pit and was beating on another machine nearby. The security androids surrounding it were a fifth of its size, and the devices they were using to try to restrain or deactivate it didn't seem to be working.

"Observation to IT. Hurry up!" June snapped.

"Ma'am, we're uplinking as fast as we can, but it's going to be ten minutes at the best."

"We don't _have_ ten minutes! Forty seven is trying to detach its anchor! Can't one of you go to a working computer?"

"The IT building is too far away, it would be useless to try and make it. And nobody else in this damn facility can program, so we couldn't even explain to you what you needed to do."

"I can program," said June defensively.

"Not really," said the IT person. "You're a designer, not a computer engineer. You don't know Pinstripe, do you? You've got security access, but the subframe code is very complex."

"I could try. In fact, I _have_ to try." June gestured to two nearby androids. They walked to a pillar in the middle of the room and opened a panel on its side. The panel broke in half, retracting into the ceiling and the floor, revealing a computer panel. June rushed over to it. "Okay, I'm in the mainframe."

The rogue robot struck an incredible blow to its anchor, shaking the whole facility. Back in the waiting room, Pike flipped his communicator open.

"Pike to Kirk. Are you safe?"

"We're fine," said Kirk. "Gothos is having issues with a robot."

"_Issues_? That sounds like an understatement."

"Oh, it is. We're in an observation room, near—"

He was interrupted by June's snarl. "_Explain_ what the strate is, then."

"It's the active layer in Pinstripe," said Kirk, trying to be helpful.

June stared at him. "You a programmer, kid?"

"I'm not bad," said Kirk.

"Get over here," June said. "You know Pinstripe?"

"Yeah…"

She shoved him in front of the computer and handed him her communicator. "Go."

"Uh. Okay. Er, Kirk here, tell me what to do."

"_Who?_"

"Tell him what to do," June said dangerously into the communicator.

"Alright, keep your pants on…"

Chapel kept Kirk's communicator open. In the waiting room, everybody had tuned in to the same channel, listening intently to the IT person's instructions to Kirk. When the IT couldn't explain a concept that Kirk needed to know, Spock broke in. "Think of it in terms of Perl."

"Oh wow, that makes sense," said Kirk, starting to type again. Sulu and Chekov also interrupted at various points to clarify.

"Who _are_ you guys?" the IT demanded, but June shushed him.

In five minutes, the program was ready. "Upload," said the IT.

Nothing happened. The robot continued to beat mercilessly on its extremely battered-looking anchor.

"Uh," said the IT. "Upload?"

"Yeah, it didn't work," said Kirk, staring at the screen.

"Wait jus' a second," said Bones unexpectedly. "Is all this based on neurotronics?"

"Yes," said the IT. "Why?"

"And your neurotronics specialist is gone today?"

"He's home with Ankaran flu," said the IT. "How'd you know?"

"Upload it through the second cord," said Bones. "The, uh… the kalate?"

"The kulot, yes," said the IT. "But that won't do any good, the kulot's just a back up—"

"Do it anyway," said Bones.

"The _what_ now?" said Kirk, totally lost. "What are you talking about?"

"It's a neurotronics thing," said Chapel. She pointed to a line of code. "Lock into that one, then upload."

"Alright…" said Kirk doubtfully, obeying.

There was a pause as the computer processed the request. And then there was silence from the factory floor as the rogue robot stopped mid-swing.

"Wow," said Kirk. "Thought you guys were doctors, not programmers."

"We can be both," said Chapel, grinning. "Neurotronics is a robotic technology based on human neurosystems. Handy, huh?"

"Extremely," said Kirk fervently.

"Okay, I'm impressed," said the IT. "Seriously, who are you guys?"

"High school kids," said June, taking the communicator from Kirk. "They were here to see Bill about parts for their hovercar. Am I right?"

"In one," said Chapel.

"Tell me what you need," said June, "and you've got it."

"In addition," the IT chimed in, "any of you guys want a job?"

x

"This is likely t' be the best day o' me life," said Scotty, stroking the archanite shield fondly. "And the hull'll be finished in—how long did she say?"

"Two days," said Sulu.

"I'll bring it over," said Kirk, who had accepted the job offer immediately and now was a part-time programmer. "It's nice having a corporation like Gothos in your debt, huh?"

"Wery nice," said Chekov. He held up a microchip. "Where does this go, Hikaru?"

"Right there, in the slot next to the gold wires," said Sulu, pointing.

Kirk was working with those gold wires. Chekov's hand brushed his as he maneuvered his part into place. Kirk glanced up at him.

Chekov smiled, a shiver running up his arm.

Bones, meanwhile, was busy avoiding everybody, especially Scotty, who, regarding the previous night, had mentioned remembering "somethin'… about a pair o' handcuffs, maybe?" earlier in front of the entire group, causing a scene. Chapel tried to talk to him about neurotronics but he wouldn't look her in the eye. Finally she'd had enough.

"Why are you so worked up about this?" she hissed, drawing him into a corner. "_Look_ at me. What? What is it? Are you actually homophobic or something? Are you _ashamed_?"

Bones drew himself up. "Of course not!"

"Well then, what's wrong with you?"

Bones looked her squarely in the eye. "I don't take sex lightly," he growled. "If I'm interested in you that much, then it really means somethin'. But this was totally different—I don't _like_ Scotty; I don't want to pursue a relationship with him. But it happened anyway, and I feel like I've betrayed myself."

"Oh," said Chapel, backing down a bit. "Well, that makes sense." She paused. "How many sexual partners have you _had_, anyway?"

"Three," growled Bones. "As of last night. See?"

"Quite," said Chapel. "Er, who's the third?"

Bones gave her a look that said, _How dumb are you?_ "Gaila. Who else?"

"Oh. Obviously," said Chapel. "Sorry I even asked."

They were quiet. Chapel put her hand gently on his arm.

"It's okay, you know," she said. "To lose control sometimes. You don't have to keep everything in you so tight."

"I know," said Bones. "But I've lost control before. I don't want somethin' like that to happen again."

Before Chapel could ask what he was talking about, Bones had pulled away and gone back to the _Enterprise_.

x


	15. Chapter 15: Shore Leave

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Fifteen: Shore Leave_

x

It was Sunday night of the next week, and everybody was at the Shore Leave, nursing drinks. They had worked on the hovercar all day. Even Scotty was so tired that he wasn't constantly talking about the plans he had for it. A couple of non-Hoverclub members were there, including Gaila, Janice Rand, Gary Mitchell and Elizabeth Dehner, Kevin Riley, Helen Noel, and Ruth Bonne, who Kirk had been in love with in elementary school. Now, though, she was a committed lesbian, which saddened him greatly, although he cheered himself up by asking if he could watch. The slap was worth it.

At nine, Kirk drew Bones to one side. Kirk felt strange around Bones, now. He hadn't liked the way Bones had attacked that night last week. He didn't mind being used for sex—well, he did, but… it was _complicated_. Sex was great. It was _sex_, how could it not be great? But he had been reminded of a time when sex hadn't been great, when it had been terrifying because it was new and wrong and strange, but he'd done it anyway. He had felt that creeping sensation coming over his body again when Bones had kissed him, like he was just going to _do_ it, not _enjoy _doing it.

Bones looked guilty. Kirk's skin crawled as Bones's fingers accidentally brushed his elbow. They had moved out of the small, main light to a corner table, dimly lit.

"Listen," said Kirk. "I'm sorry I was so weird last Wednesday. But—I was just—" He shook his head. "I don't know. It just didn't _seem_ right. I like being with you, don't get me wrong, because I think I even sort of like you, but you just—you sort of handled it wrong, no offense, but you didn't ask me, you just assumed—"

"Alright," said Bones, throwing up his hands. "I know. I'm sorry, Jim, I really am. But—I guess I had gotten this vibe from you about you being okay with it. And I felt—really _voracious_, that night. Like I couldn't stand it anymore. I objectified you and I apologize."

"I was okay," said Kirk. "I'm not sure if I still am, though. I know the feeling, like you just have to stick your dick in something." He grinned, breaking the tension of the moment. "It honored me that I had been chosen to be the recipient of said dick, but the recipient really ought to be _asked_."

"I know," said Bones, looking ashamed. "I'm really sorry."

There was an awkward silence. Kirk tapped his foot, wishing he could speak to Bones. He considered saying something about how he'd never noticed how blue Bones's eyes were before, or the way his hair stuck up in the strangest places, or the freckles scattered across his arms…

"Heard you slept with Helen," said Bones, not really knowing what to say.

"Yeah, Tuesday," said Kirk listlessly. "She's great. Really sweet. Kind of insane, too."

"Seems steady to me."

"Well, in that she's _so_ into psychology. She was saying the weirdest things while we were sixty-nining."

"Why would you tell me that? Why?"

Kirk perked up. "What, you're not interested in oral? It's—Bones, it's the best. I think it's my favorite position."

"You would think so."

"God, man, have you tried it?"

Bones sipped his iced tea, nose wrinkled. "I'm not a sex toy."

"Okay, seriously. Let's do this _right now_. I mean, you don't even _know_." Oh man, thought Kirk. I would just _love_ to go down on Bones.

"Please stop. My disgust isn't mingling well with my hard-on."

"You are a man of many emotions."

"All of them contradictory, let me assure you. Jim, why do you sleep with so many people?"

Kirk was taken aback. "What? Uh, because it's fun?"

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, Jim. You haven't thought about it? It's your defining characteristic."

Kirk had definitely thought about why he slept with so many people, and he knew why, but he wasn't about to tell Bones. He didn't plan on telling _anyone_. But for some reason, he'd never really expected anybody to ask him about it. None of his psychologists were aware of his reputation—they didn't care enough to talk to his teachers or peers—and so sex had never come up before.

He decided to tell the truth a little. "I dunno. Maybe intimacy."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, I always—I never knew what to do with people. You know, I could only ever read them for my own benefit. And then, when we were in Iowa, my mom was off planet all the time, and it got—it got really hard for me to identify with other humans, and I got really detached. I had depression, actually. I got better as soon as I started sleeping around. It was the physical contact, I guess."

"That's pretty analytical of you, Jim," said Bones, not entirely fooled. "I remember you bein'… different, after a while, after you moved, but I figured it was just you growing up."

"It was that, too," said Kirk, holding his glass tightly. "Unhappiness does things to you, ages you. I feel much older than I am."

"I'm sorry," said Bones, frowning in sympathy. He reached out to touch Kirk's hand. This time, Kirk felt warmth and concern, and some tingles. He smiled at Bones, sweetly, and Bones smiled back, just as sincere.

x

Gaila was standing on a table, entertaining everybody with a story about how she'd been cornered by some girls a few years ago who were offended by her habit of sleeping with anything that breathed.

"They called me a slut, among other things," she said, brushing her copper red hair out of her eyes. "And I just said, 'What, that's your term for enthusiastic sexuality? Come on, I'm an Orion,' and then one of them had the _gall_ to say I should have been kept in the slave trade, so I got suspended for a week for violence against a peer. Her face never really looked the same. See, I'm fine with insults about my sexuality, but my heritage?" She made a face. "Bitches. I made sure to sleep with all of them later, out of spite. I've never had so much fun doing orgasm denial."

Kirk and Bones had come back from their talk.

"Can you _do_ anything about your hormones?" Kirk asked. "Not that you'd want to, I guess."

"Lots of Orions on Earth or in Starfleet take supplements to keep their hormones at a human level, but my philosophy is that it's my body and I can do whatever I want to with it. Of course, from that argument, it influences your bodies—I mean, I've slept with (almost) all of you at one time or another—but, be honest, did anybody _dislike_ the experience?"

Everybody but Spock shook his or her head emphatically.

"See? No harm, no foul, to borrow an idiom. I do good works." She grinned widely. "Monogamy is _not_ the way to go."

"Aye aye," said Scotty, raising his cup in a toast. They exchanged winks.

"It's not that bad," said Gary Mitchell mildly, his arm around his girlfriend Elizabeth Dehner. "I mean, we break it for the occasional threesome or swing party, but you'd be surprised how amazing sex with the same person can be."

Gaila shook her head. "I'll take your word for it. Variety is the spice of life. You know, I really love English."

"The language has its moments," agreed Elizabeth. "Gaila, don't you get tired of switching from one person to the other all the time?"

"Don't analyze me the same as you would anybody else," Gaila warned. "I'm just _different_ from you humans. Right, Spock?"

Spock looked up from his PADD. "Your genetic makeup does indeed deviate from our and their own."

"'Our and their own…' What are you, then?" she asked him, slinking across the table and bending down to his face. "Human or Vulcan? I've slept with Vulcans before. They're a passionate race."

Uhura's heart sped up, but something inside her knew everything would be fine. Indeed, Spock merely raised his eyebrow at Gaila's approach.

"Vulcan males are immune to Orion hormones," he said calmly, "and my human side is easier to control than you think. The Vulcans you had intercourse with must have been inebriated or otherwise impaired."

"Hey," said Gaila, drawing back. "Ouch."

"I do not mean to insult you, but to Vulcans, one-night stands are illogical. I doubt the Vulcans you had intercourse with were in full command of their facilities."

"I can be logical," said Gaila earnestly. "I pointed out that pleasure would be doubly achieved by our joining, and that no harm would be done, nor would any time be lost, since I can whittle the full treatment down to about an hour and a half."

"Something tells me that it's not just humans who think with their dicks," said Kirk contemplatively.

"Actually, both of the Vulcans I slept with were female."

There was a bit of a silence as everybody in the room took a moment to appreciate the image. Spock, irritated, cleared his throat. Everybody jumped, flushing. Gaila looked pleased.

"Distracted you guys a bit?" said Gaila coyly.

"A _bit_," said Kirk hoarsely. "I would pay _money_ to see that." Uhura, eyes wide, looked like she agreed.

"Human sexual responses are so interesting," said Chapel distantly. "Males tend to be sexually aroused by female on female sexual intercourse, while for females, the opposite is true."

"Gay is great," said Kirk. "Who cares why? Please, Gaila, tell me more."

"You had your chance," she said, shrugging away from him. But she tossed him a melting smile over her shoulder despite.

"Tell me where to set up the altar to Kirk, God of Sex," said Gary, leaning next to Kirk. Gary had been a close friend when they were young. He was Jim's age, seventeen, but still a junior. He had short, thick black hair and a blunt, unkind face that often broke character to smile widely.

"Anywhere's good," said Kirk. "I haven't had much of a chance to talk to you. How's life?"

"Going well," said Gary, sipping his black coffee. "I'm enlisting right out of high school. They need psychics in the 'Fleet."

"Psychics?"

"My Esper rating is off the charts, evidently," he said. "You know how some Vulcans are touch telepaths? That's me, and then some. Liz too," he gestured at his girlfriend, who was talking to Scotty, "but she's not as powerful as I am." He grinned.

"I never knew," said Kirk, amazed.

Gary shrugged. "Didn't happen 'till I was thirteen. Something about maturity, they told me." His communicator squawked, and he took the call, apologizing to Kirk.

Kirk got drawn into a discussion with Spock, Helen, and Scotty about the Romulan situation. The Federation was currently negotiation with the Empire for trade rights and possible entry into the Federation at some future date. The Tellarites were up in arms over it, but the humans, Vulcans, and Andorians favored an end to skirmishes and fighting. Ezar, a Romulan Counsel, had begun the peace talks when he had visited Earth a few years ago. He had met and fallen in love with Barda, the Vice President of the Federation, a Vulcan. The Federation and the Empire had watched as Barda and Ezar courted, dated, and finally married, inviting increasing cordiality between the Empire and the Federation. Many Romulans were unhappy with the direction their government was going, but the Empire's structure was hindering its growth. A bad food distribution system and droughts and catastrophes across the Empire had caused a severe food shortage, and prominent Romulans were muttering about trade with the Federation. The accord was close to being signed.

"The accord is the only logical way to end the fighting and starvation," said Spock. "The Federation ought to take this opportunity to negotiate with the Romulans. They never talk. It is incredible that we have come this far."

Scotty looked incredulous. "They could jus' be trickin' us," he said. "We've never had unauthorized contact with any o' their planets. The food shortage could be constructed, and it'll turn out all o' this is a trap."

"I am sure that possibility has occurred to the Federation," said Spock. "You can be assured that they will do or have done sweeps of all known Romulan planets to establish the veracity of their claims."

Kirk said, "If I were in charge, I'd bring the Fleet near the Romulan system for a while after the treaty was signed to make sure the Romulans didn't try anything. And would say it was just to protect all of the new trading ships. I mean, the Romulans wouldn't be too happy about it, but then we'd be safe. Still, my hunch is that they're trustworthy. They have always kept their word, after all."

"James, I cannot see you being in charge of anything, much less a military operation," said Spock. "You have proven yourself to be a good programmer, but little else."

"Harsh," said Kirk, grinning at the unwarranted attack. "Thanks for the dodgy compliment, though."

"It would be illogical to deny your technical prowess," said Spock. "However, it would also be illogical to state that you are a good leader, as you have shown no previous aptitude for taking charge of a situation."

Helen laughed. "Oh, he can take charge," she said, a light in her eye. "Jim Kirk is a man of many talents, Spock. He'd surprise you. Other than being the sexiest guy I know, he's also one of the most compassionate. And of course, you're well aware that he's first in the class."

Spock's eyes narrowed. "Intelligence alone does not imply an ability to lead," he said. "Nor does a… a dominant sexual attitude. And compassion in battle can be a crutch."

Scotty frowned. "Ah think Jim would be a great leader," he said. "When we had t' break into th' race central cortex at Riverside, he took charge quite well. Ah'd choose him as a captain, if ah _were_ given that choice."

"Sweet of you," said Kirk. "See, Spock? If I ever tried to mutiny, at least somebody would support me."

"Well, if it were between you two, ah'd prefer not t' take sides."

"James, the point is moot. I would never allow you aboard any vessel of which I were in charge."

"Oh, Spock. You're too kind."

x

It was cold and dark when they left. Out in the parking lot, Kirk paused by his motorcycle to look up at the stars. He heard footsteps approaching and glanced back. It was Bones.

"We might get to see some of those up close, some day," said Bones softly into his ear. "Not that the idea appetizes me. Spaceflight is horrifyin'."

"You're such a romantic," said Kirk, leaning naturally into Bones's chest. Bones wrapped his arms around Kirk and kissed him on the temple.

"Listen, about earlier—this might be a stretch, but d'you think you need to learn more about bein' in a relationship?"

Kirk felt his heart beat a little faster. "Practice makes perfect, I guess."

"What d'you think about going out with me?"

Kirk turned to face him. "Really? You'd put up with me?"

"I'd be honored if you could attempt to stay monogamous for a while. Of course, I wouldn't be too offended if you strayed, but I'm a one-person man, generally."

"I can do my best," said Kirk. "I'd love to be your boyfriend, Bones."

The smile lit up Bones's face. They kissed laughingly, lingering under the stars for a while.

x

Uhura called Chapel and told her as kindly as she could, but Chapel cried anyway. Spock walked into the room just as Uhura started speaking to Chapel, and snuck silently back out again, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

x


	16. Chapter 16: Amok Time

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Sixteen: Amok Time_

x

"You and Bones, huh?" said Winona carefully, watching her son over the edge of her newspaper. Kirk had waited until last night, Friday night, to casually mention to his mother that he was dating Bones and had been for nearly a week now.

"Yup," said Kirk, eyes fixed on the viewscreen hanging from the ceiling. A smile flickered around his mouth, which made Winona feel better. "Me and Bones."

"I always thought you two would do well together." Actually, she didn't think that at all, but she wasn't about to say so. To be perfectly honest, she had a horrible feeling that her son would never be happy in a relationship.

"I'm glad you feel that way. We've been through a lot together. I mean, I know it's only been about six days, but it already feels—natural."

"You were always talking about how strange it was, being in a relationship," said Winona. She felt guilt spike through her and pressed it down. She hadn't helped Jim one bit when it came to relationships. "You've dated, what, six people, officially?"

"One of them was Ruth, mom, she didn't count."

"Of course she did, honey! She was the true love of your elementary school years. And then—" Winona hunted through her mind for the list. "—Carol Marcus, Rohan Ansari, Gillian Taylor, Soren Nielsen, and now Leonard McCoy. You dated Carol for _ages_."

"Six months, mom. That's not too long."

"And how long did you go out with Gillian for?"

"About a week. She left me for her biology tutor." Kirk sighed. "Rohan and Soren were two months each." He smiled when he thought of Rohan, who had been his favorite by far, but had also ended up being the one who cheated on him. Kirk thought this made a certain amount of sense, in a horrible way.

"But you've—known so many other people," she said as lightly as possible.

Kirk made a face at her, actually turning away from the viewscreen. "You could just come out and say that I'm promiscuous."

"You've already had sex with Bones, then?"

"Mom! _Why_ are you asking me that? Okay, one, you're my _mom_, so I'm not telling you, and two, we haven't been dating for that long, only seventy seven point four two eight percent of a week."

"You're trying to distract me with your math skills and it's not working. You're using protection, right?"

"Mom. _Seriously_."

"As long as you're being safe, honey. What exactly are you doing on your first date?" Since the past week had been spent in continued construction of the _Enterprise_, Kirk and Bones hadn't had much of a chance to do couple-y things yet, including go on their first official outing together.

"I don't know, but I guarantee you that it won't involve a bed." He saw her expression and backtracked hastily. "Not that we're going to be humping in a public park or something! I tried to get him to go rock climbing, but he's evidently afraid of heights, so we're biking down to Golden Gate and then going to the gym."

"The _gym_?" spluttered Winona. "You can't go to a _gym_ on your first date!"

"Why not?"

"It's not—romantic! Or appropriate! You should go to a museum or, or boating or—_not_ the gym."

"But… we _want_ to go to the gym."

Winona shook her head. "You boys are crazy. A _gym_… I took your father to a jazz concert on our first date."

"I hate jazz."

"That's not the point, dear. The point is—"

"It's nearly noon, mom, I should go get ready."

"He won't be here for another hour and a half!"

"I have to look perfect, and you're lecturing me about how much I suck at dates, so _bye_."

Winona laughed and waved Kirk off. But as she glanced back down at her newspaper PADD she felt her smile melt away. Not only was she still feeling bad about her poor boy, the article her eyes settled on was about the speculation surrounding Barda and Ezar's child. She briefly considered going to the media—they needed money—but her pride pulled her as fast as the thought crossed her mind. Eleen might betray Pike, but _she_ would never betray anybody. Not intentionally.

x

As he pushed his bike down the street towards the bus stop, Bones's mind was going a mile a minute.

_Shit, I should get Jim something. What should I get Jim? What could I possibly purchase for Jim that would be both romantic and sexy? Maybe some flavored lube? Oh God, no, that's a _bad_ idea, since I have to give it to him in front of Winona, because I'm getting him something to try to get on her good side, so, okay, must be mother-approved. What would any mother like for her son to receive from his new boyfriend? Um, um, um. … candy? No. That's lame. A book? What the hell. I don't have time to pick out a book. Shit, the bus is about to be here—fuck it, I'll grab _those_._

Which was how Leonard McCoy ended up on the San Francisco public transit line with a gigantic bouquet of peach orchids.

The first thing he said when Kirk pulled open his front door is, "I didn't mean to get so _many_."

Kirk stared at the flowers. "Woah," he said.

"Really, Jim, I'm sorry, but they were just right there next to the bus stop and I was thinkin', 'You know, Leo, you should really get Jim somethin', he is your boyfriend an' all,' and so I just _bought_ 'em."

"How many _are_ there?"

"Uh, think the guy said… seven dozen?"

"Shit, Bones. I love you _too_."

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad? You bought me flowers. Here, let me try." Kirk cleared his throat and adopted a scolding tone. "What the hell were you thinking, Bones? How dare you purchase _plants_ for me? God, you're so inconsiderate. I don't know why I ever agreed to date you." He couldn't make it much farther; he started laughing. Bones, a grin sneaking over his mouth, started laughing too.

"Come in and I'll put them in water, okay? And then we can go."

"Sounds great," said Bones, coming inside and kissing Kirk hello. He spotted Winona immediately. She was staring at the flowers.

"Hi, Ms. Lawrence," said Bones carefully.

"Hello, Bones," said Winona sweetly. "Nice orchids."

"Thanks so much, ma'am. Found 'em on Mission and couldn't resist."

Kirk disappeared into the kitchen to put up the flowers, leaving Bones and Winona alone in the living room. Winona took the opportunity to fix Bones with an ice-cold stare.

"You're a smart kid," she said, her voice positively dripping with menace. "Keep in mind that if you hurt my son in any way, shape, or form, I _will_ make sure that they never find your body."

Bones gulped.

Kirk reappeared from the kitchen and Winona hiked a large, slightly terrifying smile onto her face. "You two have fun," she said cheerfully.

"Yes, ma'am," said Bones in a tiny voice.

"See ya, mom," said Kirk, taking Bones's hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "Thanks for the flowers. Really," he told Bones as they left. "They're beautiful. You're so sweet."

"Welcome," said Bones gruffly. "It was nothin'."

Kirk held up a paper bag. "I made us snacks!" he said as Bones strapped on his helmet and threw a leg over his bike, which he'd left leaning against the rickety front gate. "Carrots and celery and awesomesauce."

"What," said Bones, "the hell is _awesomesauce_?"

"It's this… dip type stuff… that I invented a year or two ago."

"You cook experimentally?"

Kirk shrugged. "On occasion. Uh, did mom try to kill you with her brain?"

"A little, yeah."

"Sorry. I forgot she might do that. She's kinda protective these days." Kirk finished strapping his bag onto his bicycle and swung onto it. "Ready?"

"Ready. Bet I can beatcha to the park."

"As if!" Kirk pushed off and shot down the sidewalk. Bones threw himself after him.

They cycled nearly three and a half miles to Golden Gate Park and ate Kirk's vegetables and awesomesauce underneath the shadow of Murphy's Windmill. It was nearly sixty degrees and windy, and Kirk's light jacket was too thin, so Bones, muttering about being a human, not a heater, wrapped his arms around him as they lay back on the grass and talked. After a while, they got up and biked over to a free gym and lifted weights for an hour or two, then went out for dinner.

"I should go home," said Kirk, leaning against Bones's arm. It was dark now, and even colder. They were outside of the gym in a small public park next door, spread across a bench. Bones nodded and kissed Kirk deeply, holding his face tenderly in his rough hands.

"Tomorrow? Early?" said Bones, fingers stroking the back of Kirk's neck. "Lunch, maybe?"

"That sounds wonderful."

"At my house," said Bones. "I'll cook, I can show you."

"I have no doubt you can," said Kirk, kissing him goodbye. "See you tomorrow."

"Eleven!"

"Eleven."

Kirk, on his bike, threw Bones a kiss over his shoulder as he sped into the dark. Bones, sighing a bit, gathered himself and went home to agonize about cooking.

x

Spock and Uhura's Sunday date, while it occurred in a nicer place, was not quite as romantic. They were both getting slightly behind on schoolwork because of the Hoverclub and various other (mainly physical) distractions, so they went to the San Francisco Public Library at nine thirty and worked nearly all day.

As they were leaving the library at six, a tall, busy-looking woman in a suit ran straight into Spock, spilling her coffee all over him.

Uhura, improvising, pounced.

"My house is closest," she said, helping him sop up the liquid on his shoulder with a bunch of napkins. He had been wearing a white shirt, and the large stain made him look quite homely. "Come on, we can get you changed and then go out for dinner."

"An excellent plan," said Spock, frowning at the discoloration through glasses specked with drops of coffee. Uhura smiled and guided him to her car.

_Okay_, thought Uhura, starting the engine. _This could work. This could maybe work_.

They hadn't even gotten to second base yet. Spock wasn't kidding when he said he was wary about sexual contact. While he was an amazingly enthusiastic kisser, she surmised that he wasn't willing to go any further with her. She'd brought it up a week ago, and he had said frustratingly that life was about journeys, not destinations, and then distracted her again.

At her house, she directed him into her bedroom and started rifling through her drawers until she found a large enough shirt. He took it and was about to go into her bathroom when she put a hand on his forearm.

"You can change in here," she said.

He looked at her.

Five minutes later, both of their shirts were off.

x

Bones ended up making Reubens for lunch the next day, which involved grilling, if not cooking. When Kirk had sunk his teeth into a particularly large area of sandwich, Bones popped the question.

"Wanna go to homecoming with me, Jim?"

Kirk's eyes widened. He chewed for a while, quickly, trying to get to his answer.

"I completely forgot about it," said Kirk. "That'd be fun."

"Yeah, it will be, but, I have to admit, I'm asking mainly because the homecoming court nominations are out."

"Oh," said Kirk, not offended, just a little surprised.

"I'm one of the dukes," explained Bones. "We're all required to bring dates."

"Aw, man, does this mean I have to be in the parade? And by the sidelines during the game?" The homecoming football game was on a Friday night, right after the parade, and the dance, where the king and queen were crowned, was on Saturday.

"Yup," said Bones. "Sorry. Evidently I'm pretty popular."

"Who else got nominated?"

"Hikaru, Gary, Liam Ferrolin, and Raj Rapali," said Bones. "For the girls… Gaila, Ruth, Janice Lester, Miramanee Scharf, and Edith Keeler." Kirk grinned; he'd slept with Janice Lester a few weeks ago.

"Who's going to win?"

"Gaila." Bones rolled his eyes. "And probably me, actually. Our peers'll be biased, since the other sports don't start 'till November at the earliest. They'll be goin' from the homecoming game, where I play the role of the Handsome Star Quarterback, straight to the voting boxes. It's a little unfair to the other members of the court."

"I think you'll make a wonderful Homecoming King. The glitzy borite crown, the fur-lined robe, the hot babe on your arm…"

"Did you just describe yourself as a 'hot babe?'"

"It's possible," said Kirk, hiding behind his Reuben. "What? Deny it."

Bones just laughed.

x

_It worked_, thought Spock, inhaling the scent of Uhura's hair. _Shariel, it actually _worked.

He was sitting on her bed, holding her from behind, his hands massaging her breasts gently. She was making noises into his shoulder, little pleading sounds that tugged at the pit of his stomach. He pushed her down onto the bed and placed himself along the length of her, running his hands over her whole body. Her hands were clenched on his back, undoubtedly leaving nail marks along his spine. Her expression was at once tense and lax, as if she were paying all of the attention in the world to what he was doing, but trying to sit back and let it happen at the same time.

"Nyota," he said into her ear. She opened her eyes. He pulled off his glasses and, folding the legs, placed them slowly on the bedside table before coming back to kiss her, keeping his eyes on hers as their tongues pressed against each other. She trembled, eyelids flickering. He ended the kiss. "What do you want?" he said, voice low.

She shook her head. "What do _you_ want?"

He bit his lip. "I am not sure," he said. "Can I—take a moment to discover my intentions?"

"You can do anything you want," she said. "I'm game for whatever you're game for." She paused. "Do you want _this_?"

He raised his eyebrow. "I must admit that I placed myself before the woman with the coffee entirely on purpose," he said dryly.

"Did you really?" she grinned. "Oh, you are _too_ cute." She leaned forward to kiss him again.

His body decided for him. He blushed, embarrassed, and tried to move away from her, but she locked her hands around his back, her surprisingly strong arms pulling him short. He could have broken her grip, but he realized didn't want to.

"You can have anything," she reminded him, trying to soothe the wild look in his eyes.

"I can't," he said, not meeting her gaze. He knew he was bright green with embarrassment. It was on her _leg_. Poor girl. She must just hate h—

Which was when Uhura reached down and ran her hand over the lump in his pants.

His jaw dropped slowly. He had gone completely still and was now staring straight at her.

So, logically, she did it again.

x

"_Shit_, Bones," panted Kirk. "Just take off my pants already."

"I like teasin' you," said Bones, glancing up from Kirk's crotch. They had finished lunch a while ago and were in Bones's room, breaking in the bed. He ran his tongue over the bulging fabric again. Kirk bared his teeth in a low growl.

That _was hot_, thought Bones.

x

_Did he just _growl? thought Uhura. _Dear God_.

Carefully, she found the zipper to his slacks and pulled down. He stiffened even more, which she hadn't thought possible, and to her great dismay, moved his hands down to hers and pulled them away.

x

"Okay, sure, take your _own_ pants off," said Bones, rolling his eyes and getting his hands out of the way. Kirk was out of his jeans in two seconds flat and working at Bones's pants now, which distracted Bones a bit. Okay more than a bit because Kirk had gotten Bones's pants off was doing the same licking thing that he had done earlier to Kirk and he was never going to be able to think straight again in his _life_ haha pun oh God Kirk actually had his hand around him through his underwear this might just be the best day ever.

x

Uhura's brain was a useless lump of flesh at this point. Spock had removed both of their pairs of pants and was now running his fingers between her legs. She knew her underwear were completely soaked through, but Spock didn't seem to mind.

And then his head disappeared out of her vision and before she could realize what he was doing, he had licked a stripe up her wet spot.

x

Bones's jaw cracked as he opened his mouth in shock. Kirk had just _licked him_. That was it. That was absolutely _it_.

"Can the boxers go now?" pled Bones.

"They should have gone _hours_ ago," said Kirk, the sexiest damn smile appearing on his mouth.

x

To her surprise, Spock didn't hesitate.

x

Neither did Kirk.

x

Afterwards, he moved level to her and lay down beside her. She was quite unable to speak. She was shocked at how good he'd been. He hadn't been _great_, but dear Lord, he had sure known the theory behind what to do, and wasn't half bad at putting his tongue to work in practice. She hadn't expected to come, but there was something about his inexperienced _persistence_ that had driven her suddenly over the edge. She had directed him, and he had been totally unafraid to do exactly as she said. He didn't know the ground very well, but he had managed. Oh, how he had managed.

Finally, she decided she could attempt speech. She was curled in his arms, her ear against where his heart should be. He was trembling too as he stroked her back.

"Spock," she said, turning to look at him. "That was beautiful."

He smiled. "Thank you," he said. "As you can tell, I had never undertaken that action before. I was pleasantly surprised by your physical response."

"You were pleasantly surprised… I think—"

Spock sat up suddenly, ears perking. "There is a car in your driveway," he informed her calmly.

She threw herself out of bed. "_Dad_! Shit! Clothes clothes clothes!"

x

"Estimate," said Bones, "roughly the number of blow jobs you've given in your life."

Kirk put on his thinking face. "I have no idea. Four hundred, maybe? Or five hundred?"

"God, man. No wonder you're so good."

They were propped up against the headboard, under a blanket to their shoulders, both having realized they were cold after Kirk was finished with Bones. Bones was running his hands over Kirk's body under the covers. Finally, he made it all the way down to Kirk's hard-on. He wrapped his hand around it, watching Kirk's eyes roll up in his head.

"I can fix that," Bones whispered in Kirk's ear.

Kirk opened his mouth reply when Bones's bedroom door opened. Both boys moved away from each other quickly, but there wasn't much else they had time to do.

Ian poked his head around the door. He paused at the sight of them, his expression going flat, and tossed Kirk a flat, black object.

"Your communicator was beeping," he said. "I expect to see both of you in the living room in five minutes."

And he closed the door.

"Oh God," said Bones, covering his eyes. Kirk remained frozen, hand wrapped tightly around the communicator. Finally he flipped it open and redialed.

"Oh hey, mom. Yeah. I think I'll be home pretty soon."

x

How they got their clothes on before Chane got up stairs, Nyota had no idea. But by the time he opened her bedroom door, they were sprawled on the floor with their physics homework in front of them, innocently working.

"Hey dad!" said Nyota.

"Greetings, Mr. Uhura," said Spock solemnly.

"Hey, you two," said Chane, smiling at them. He was, Spock thought illogically, about eight feet tall and seemed to be made of muscle. He had just gotten back from coaching a tennis lesson and was wearing a while shirt and shorts that showed off his incredible muscles to an amazing degree. "What have you guys been up to?"

"Physics," said Nyota. "Want to tell him about the Hiralt theory of electromagnetic transmission, Spock?"

"Okay, okay, I'm going," said Chane, laughing. "Don't threaten a poor literature professor with science." At the door he stopped and turned around, a very slight smile on his face. "Next time, Nyota, you might want to remember to put _all_ of your clothes back on."

And he left.

Spock and Nyota turned around slowly. Sure enough, lying across her white sheets were the pair of black underwear she'd been wearing earlier.

"Fuck," said Nyota. Spock looked like he agreed.

x

Ian, Kirk felt, looked like he was about to choke a bitch.

David was trying to calm him down.

"They're teenagers, for chrissake," said David, his hand on Ian's shoulder. Kirk and Bones were standing guiltily in the middle of the living room, as far away as they could get from each other. "What do you expect them to do when they're home alone?"

"That is _not_ the point," said Ian. "Jim is seventeen and Leo is nineteen. They have done something _illegal_."

"Are you gonna call the police, then?" said David. "Come on, let it go. Maybe you weren't like that at their age, but I sure was."

"Fine. No legal consequences," snapped Ian. "But I want the two of you to understand this: You will _not_ enter _any_ bedroom in this house together again, without an escort. Leo, you will let me know if you are going anywhere with Jim, or if Jim is coming over. Jim, if this happens again, I will tell your mother."

Kirk not intimidated by the threat, but he was intimidated by Ian, so he nodded quickly.

"You may go," said Ian coldly to Kirk. Kirk grabbed his bag and, hesitantly and quickly, kissed Bones goodbye.

"Good luck," he whispered. "Call me if anything bad happens. Actually, just call me."

"Can do, kid," Bones whispered back. Kirk left.

"Room. Now," said Ian. "I have to have a talk with your father."

"And I have to have a talk with your dad," said David.

Bones exited as quickly as Kirk.

x

Back at home, Spock set on the couch and rubbed I-Chaya's stomach despondently. Amanda came and sat down next to him after she had put dinner in the oven.

"What happened, dear?" she said. "Did you and Nyota have a fight?"

"Not exactly," said Spock, feeling his ears go green. "We just—" He shook his head. "It was nothing, mother."

Amanda frowned. "Do you like Nyota?"

Spock blinked at her. "Of course I do," he said, nonplussed. He was quite over Jim Kirk. "Why would you ask?"

Amanda shrugged. "I was just making sure, dear." She patted his leg. "Did you get very much homework done?"

"Yes, a majority of it," he said. He paused. "Nyota's father is very kind," he said slowly.

"Really?" said Amanda, wondering where he was going with this.

"He did not—he did not seem to mind—" Spock was very green now, and Amanda suddenly understood what he was trying to say.

"Oh, honey," she said. "Did he walk in on you?"

"Yes," said Spock, staring at I-Chaya, whose tongue was lolling out of his mouth all the way to the cushion. "It was… embarrassing."

Amanda had thought she would mind when she found out that Spock had finally entered into a sexual relationship, but as it turned out, she didn't. It occurred to her that she had simply been waiting for it to happen, and now that it had, she wanted to be there for him, not incensed with him.

"It's good that he wasn't angry," said Amanda. "Very reasonable of him. It wasn't, er, _in flagrante,_ was it?"

"No," said Spock, still watching the _sehlat_ closely. "We have not… reached… that stage."

"Good," said Amanda. She turned Spock's face towards her. "Listen, Spock, it's okay that you're telling me this. And it's a good thing. I care very much about you, and I'm glad you trust me enough to confide in me."

"I have no one else to tell," he said. The confession made her heart hurt.

"You have Nyota," she said gently. "I know it's difficult, not having—not having friends, but you're getting there."

"I am," he said. He looked so sad, in his restrained way. "But I wish I had realized what I missed earlier, so that now, when I needed people of my own age…" He trailed off.

"Dear," said Amanda, hugging him. "It's alright. You'll be fine, I promise."

He never did cry. He called Uhura later and they commiserated, Uhura describing in humorous detail how awkward her dinner had been. Then she mentioned she was ignoring Chapel, who kept calling her, so he let her go, his heart hurting just a little bit more.

x


	17. Chapter 17: Friday's Child

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Seventeen: Friday's Child_

x

The first time the Enterprise High hovercar team had been out on the racetrack in Riverside, they had been calm and collected. Their hover had been ready to run, their team members had been unhurried and prepared, and the day had been a bright and sunny one, a cheerful, sparkling morning full of hope and potential.

This day was a dreary, overcast hell of a Saturday afternoon in Los Angeles, and the _Enterprise_ looked like shit. Its builders didn't look much better. In fact, they looked exactly like their counterparts in the other hoverclubs nearby, dashing around their cars like cockroaches in a sudden light.

"This is bad," said Sulu, who was splayed flat against the right outer panel of the hovercar, covered in grease and dripping a bit of blood from his eyebrow, working with an equally dirty Chapel to pry the stubborn gurian alloy off of one of the dilithium crystal casings to hook up some important wires. "This is very, very bad. It can't be more than five minutes until they call us."

Inside the hovercar, Spock and Chekov were working side by side to hook up the interior panels they hadn't had time to connect. The handling screen was displayed prominently and had been put in before most of the outer body had been finished because of Scotty's determination not to make the same mistake twice, but the other panels weren't so lucky. Chekov had dropped one of the heavy plasma screens on Spock's foot, nearly evoking a curse from the half-Vulcan. Spock was quite positive his two smallest toes were broken but since he wasn't going to walk during the race and didn't have time to get them healed, he simply bit his cheek in an attempt to ignore the pain. Chekov had pinched the skin of his forearm between the two parts of a hinge-panel and, like Sulu, was bleeding sluggishly, but he just pulled on his jacket so as not to get blood on the delicate displays and kept working, his small hands moving quickly and ably over the backs of the cool plasma screens.

Uhura, Bones, and Kirk were attempting to fix one of the thrusters, which had actually fallen off when they had driven the _Enterprise_ out of the transport and onto the track. Bones and Uhura had heaved the thing onto their shoulders and were trying to be patient as Kirk fiddled with the connections, but both of them felt like their spines were about to compress at the atomic level. Bones was keeping up a quiet yet steady stream of dire curses and Uhura was muttering in Klingon, the most violent language she could think of.

Pike and Scotty were yards away, arguing with track officials about a large number of issues that seemed to have come up out of nowhere on the day of the race, such as the questionable legality of Kirk being near the track, the fact that the blueprints of the new _Enterprise_ were judged to be slightly yet maddeningly different from the _Enterprise_ they had brought with them, and the complaint the Pride High hoverclub had submitted against its Enterprise counterparts. The governing body of the competition, led by Dr. Eleen, approached. Pike fixed her with a cold stare. Scotty continued gesticulating to the battered-looking UCLA track official.

Kirk had driven up to Los Angeles earlier in the morning on his motorcycle in order to avoid the suspension, which stated that he was not allowed in the transport chartered for his hoverclub on the day before, the day of, or the day after a race. While he was allowed to spectate, he was not allowed on the track. Scotty continued to claim that the staging area was not a part of the track—"T' meself, 'track' means 'track;' if it means somethin' else to yourselves, then ah can't comprehend what," Scotty insisted. Pike took the track official aside and convinced him, by means of his alarmingly dire tone of voice, that the spirit of the blueprints remained intact on the new iteration of the _Enterprise_—"The _Enterprise-A_, if you will…"—if not the appearance. They had had to make some last-minute changes, all of which were painfully written out in the appendices of the blueprints. Finally the track official agreed to the plans and Pike returned to find Scotty holding his own against Dr. Eleen, who was treating the Pride complaint very seriously.

"Christopher," said Eleen shortly in greeting. She grimaced and moved her hand to cover her stomach, but continued despite the flicker of pain that crossed her face. "Pride High has stated that they have deemed your school a danger to the competition. They cite your previous record of destruction—"

"Those laddies caused th' destruction or damage of fully _half_ of th' field last race!" cried Scotty. "Dr. Eleen, you can't possibly cite _us_ for dangerous conduct."

"Your school did not enter a complaint against Pride High," snapped Eleen. "As such, your argument—"

"Dr. Eleen," Pike slipped in smoothly. "Julie."

She turned to him, eyes narrowed.

"You remember my wife, Vina?" said Pike. The other racing officials and council members looked confused, as did Scotty. "She rarely pointed out the wrongdoings of others, but when she did, she expected those others to take her complaint seriously. I feel that it would be courteous to honor her memory by keeping up her expectations and standards."

Eleen scowled at him. Finally she said, "Fine. Pride High's complaint is dismissed, taking rules excusing dangerous conduct into account. Enterprise High, your blueprints are hereby accepted as accurate representations of your hovercar's construction. But you are required to move your suspended member into the common viewing area at this time, or have him escorted from UCLA property if he refuses to remove himself."

"Two out of three ain't bad," said Pike coolly.

"A touching reference," said Eleen. "However, it does not apply to the current situation."

"I find it apt. Scotty, go tell Jim to wait in the common viewing area. Tell him to keep his communicator with him."

"Aye aye, sir."

When Scotty had left, Pike turned back to Eleen.

"It's time we talked," he said. "Follow me."

x

Scotty came dashing up to the _Enterprise_. "Jim," he called. "You have t' leave. Dr. Eleen ruled against Pride and in favor of th' blueprints, but she wouldn't let you stay."

"Fuck. Come up and finish the thruster, then," sighed Kirk, climbing off of the hovercar.

"Take your communicator!" said Scotty, scrambling up to Kirk's perch. "Mr. Pike requested it."

"In my pocket," said Kirk, just as the loudspeaker clicked on.

"Would the S through Z schools please make their way towards the starting line, pilots in hovers, sponsors leading and members following."

From inside the hover, Chekov cursed. "Three more screens to go!" he called to Scotty.

Scotty worked quickly on thruster, screwing the bolts in place faster than Kirk could. By the time the moderator called the next set of hovers, Scotty was finished. He told Bones and Uhura they could move and leapt down, running over to the cockpit. "Help Hikaru with the wiring!" he told Bones and Uhura.

"Progress?" he demanded of Spock, sticking his head into the hover.

"I have finished the first panel and am assisting Pavel in mounting the second," said Spock, voice strained. "The third we have not begun."

Scotty twisted his torso around and scrabbled at the third panel, the race status monitor, one of the more important screens. Sulu shouted that the wires had been hooked in as the moderator called for the H to N schools. Spock and Chekov finished the second panel. Spock zipped up his flight jacket and started checking the systems as Chekov turned to help Scotty.

Bones, Sulu, Uhura, and Chekov patted down the exterior of the _Enterprise_. They were nearly alone in the staging area; three-fourths of the other hovers had departed and the remaining cars had already lined up in anticipation of being called. Seconds before the monitor summoned the A through E schools, Chekov tumbled out of the cockpit, tucking tools hurriedly into the belt he had looped over his shoulder. Uhura ran up to the window and kissed Spock. He kissed her back, deeply, and then drew away and closed the windows, watching her eyes as the dark screen of the window moved up her form. As she backed away, he turned on the hover. Everybody held their breath as the engine started; Scotty actually covered his mouth and hid slightly behind Bones.

Inside the _Enterprise_, Spock was watching the recently installed screens with worry. The situation was bad. The _Enterprise_ was not entirely finished. He suspected that its hastily-installed components might not last the race. But, as he wrapped his hands around the wheel, he felt confident. If anybody could steer the _Enterprise_ to the next round, it was him. Spock allowed his ego to wash over him, his sense of superiority at being part-Vulcan amidst all of these humans wrapping around him, and knew that he would win.

Outside, everybody let out sighs of relief as the thrusters flickered blue. Spock twitched the impulse engines forwards and puttered towards the rest of the A through E pack, who were already heading towards the starting line.

x

"Before you start, Chris, hear me out," said Eleen. They had walked into the middle of the large racetrack, a quarter of a mile in towards a small valley with a lake at its base. Eleen turned to Pike, scowling at him. "You had no call back there to bring up Vina."

"I may do with Vina's memory as I wish," said Pike. Any other human would have fled from the hateful tone of his voice, but Eleen was made of stronger stuff than gurian, and had stood against Pike before, even if that before was almost twenty years ago. As she watched him, waiting for him to continue, she recalled meeting him for the first time.

x

"_Come on, doctor. Out on Orthos you can do just about anything; Gothos has got a metallurgy plant out there you'd practically want to have sex with; it's _that_ perfectly stacked with the proper equipment. Starfleet will give you unlimited funding. Just spend six months on the _Kelvin_, working on the practical warp experiment, and you can do anything you want with starships, shuttlecrafts, and hovercars over on Orthos."_

_Eleen raised a haughty eyebrow at the man talking to her, the first officer of the _Kelvin_, a Mr. George Kirk. He had heard quite a bit about her—as well he should have, considering he was a Starfleet officer and she had invented his precious shuttlecrafts—but she had never heard of him._

"_I am disinclined to waste six months of my life on a Kelvin type starship, especially the prototype," said Eleen distastefully. "The warp coils utilized on a Kelvin type are massive wastes of energy."_

"_That's why we want you onboard," said Kirk with a smile, ignoring her attitude. They were pacing through Federation headquarters and had come to a stop at a fork in the hallway. Kirk stretched a hand to the right, politely motioning for Eleen to pass him. "Captain Robau's offices are along this corridor. If you would—Chrissy!"_

_On the left hallway, a black-haired man in security red was standing at a door, talking to someone inside. He looked up at the sound of his name._

"_Georgey," he said, a distinct smile appearing on his clever face when he saw Kirk. "Fancy meeting you here. And who is this delectable lady you're escorting?"_

"_Doctor Julie Eleen, Mr. …?" Eleen provided._

"_Lieutenant Commander Christopher Pike, Chief of Security on board the _Kelvin_. Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Eleen. I see you've made the unfortunate acquaintance of my dear friend Mr. Kirk."_

"_I have indeed, but thus far he has been most kind."_

"_How uncharacteristic. Doctor Eleen—" Pike gestured, and two women exited from the room he had been standing before. "My wife, Lieutenant J.G. Vina Oliver, and Mr. Kirk's wife, Ensign Winona Lawrence. Vina, Winona, this is Doctor Julie Eleen."_

_Eleen shook Vina's and Winona's hands. Vina was a short, blonde woman with plump cheeks and bright blue eyes. She looked quite cheerful in contrast to Pike, who seemed ironic and arch. When she touched Eleen's hand a blush covered her cheeks and she barely met Eleen's eyes. Eleen decided she liked her._

x

When it became apparent that Pike was not going to continue, Eleen spoke.

"However painful it must be for you to realize this, Vina's memory is not yours to preserve," said Eleen harshly, moving so that she was close to Pike. Her hands were on her hips and there was a scowl plastered to her high-cheekboned face.

"She left herself to me," growled Pike. "I'll have you know, Julie, that in the end I was her priority. She never said goodbye to you."

"But that's not the point, is it? I'm trying to remind you—"

Eleen broke off, gasping and clutching at her stomach. She stumbled backwards and Pike moved forward automatically, holding her arms and settling her back against a short splinter of granite batholith. She leaned heavily against the rock, eyes closed tightly.

"The baby," she panted. "Shit and damn, the baby's coming. Chris, get paramedics—"

Pike fumbled at his pocket for his communicator and flipped it open. "Emergency, emergency. A woman has gone into labor. Over."

There was a long moment of static, and then a broken reply. "Clarify," said a crackling voice. "Citizen, your _bzt_ -nal is weak. What _bzt_ –ation?"

"UCLA hovercar racetrack, in the inner circle," said Pike. "Can't you lock onto my signal?"

"_bzt_ –ference, move _bzt_ –cation, over."

"Repeat!" cried Pike. "Repeat!"

Static.

x

The hoverclub, three members down, was in the viewing area waiting for the race to begin. Bones flipped open his communicator and called Kirk.

"You in the common area?" Bones said, glancing around as if he might see him. "I ought to come watch it with you. Don't want to leave you all alone."

"Yeah, good idea, but hey, is Pike with you?"

"No," said Bones curiously. "He left with Dr. Eleen before the race. I guess he was tryin' to clear up some more stuff. What's up?"

"Maybe," said Kirk. "It's just—I was fiddling around with my communicator, and I was on the 911 channel and I thought I heard him saying 'Emergency.' Where did he head off to with her?"

"Down back into the center of the track," said Bones, nodding behind himself automatically even though Kirk couldn't see him. "You goin' after him?"

"_We_'re going after him."

"You got a mouse in your pocket, Jim? He's fine; he's a grown man, he can take care of himself."

"I'd rather not take chances," said Kirk. "Plus, I'm bored. Please, Bones?"

Bones sighed. He couldn't resist that pleading. "Alright. It's not like I can do anythin' useful here. I'll meet you at the back entrance. Make sure not to go into the crew area or security'll have your ass faster'n I would."

x

As Kirk and Bones made their way to their way down the multi-tiered viewing area, Spock watched the four groups in front of him blast off from the starting line. This time, the _Enterprise_ was in the final pack of ten, since it had placed second-to-last in the first race. There were fifty participants in this race, thirty-six of which would go on to the third of six stages of competition. The odds of finishing in the top thirty-six were good, but the _Narada_ was in Spock's group, which worried him, as did the condition of the _Enterprise_. But he pushed the worry away as the moderator counted down, finally giving the go. Spock hit the accelerator and the _Enterprise_ surged forwards.

Uhura watched the screen tensely. She could see the vibration in the thruster they'd had to reattach. Scotty had hidden himself in a corner. Uhura knew how helpless she felt—the escape packs installed in the hovercar seats were basically foolproof, and nobody had ever been killed during this competition, but there were first times for everything. She went over to Scotty. He was holding his knees to his chest, his hands crossed in front of his head. He looked slightly angry.

He looked up at her, eyes narrowed.

"Ah wish ah were on a proper ship," he said, frowning. "Ah wouldn't feel so useless. On a starship you can fix things if they break mid-warp or in th' middle of battle. With hovercars, there's nae ah can do until th' race is over."

Once on the racetrack, the rebuilt _Narada_ swerved straight for the _Enterprise_. In its new form, the _Narada_ was smaller but spikier, more obviously dangerous and clearly much faster. Spock realized immediately that its handling power was significantly greater than that of the _Enterprise._ He accelerated, trying to get away from the Romulan ship, convinced Nero would try something blatant and illegal that would nonetheless throw the _Enterprise_ from competition. The _Narada_ closed on him, catching up more quickly than Spock expected them to. They were in front of the fifth group; in fact, the _Enterprise_ was so close to the fourth group that it was in first place.

The UCLA track was flatter than the Riverside course had been, more wide and open. There were no real rough patches for Nero to take advantage of, no screens of trees behind which he could destroy other hovers. But nothing in the rules of the competition said that vehicles were responsible for the accidents they caused. Although Nero could not actively seek to cause harm to the other hovers, he could confuse them and intimidate them as much as he wanted.

Spock had already used up his allotted fuel for the first tenth of the race even though he had only traveled a twentieth of it. He slowed down, gritting his teeth as he decelerated to four hundred miles an hour. The _Narada_ moved in front of him and threw on its brakes.

Spock whipped the wheel to the right, barely avoiding a collision. He had to reduce speed or he wouldn't make it through the race, but the cost was the _Narada_ dogging his every move.

x

Having met at the back door, Kirk and Bones proceeded into the wilderness at the center of the circular course. Knee-high, golden grass and upturned granite boulders made up the landscape. A path that sloped downwards was cut through the grass, darkly shaded and slightly spooky in the cloud cover. Kirk and Bones followed it, Kirk reaching back to take Bones's hand. It was warm out, nearly seventy despite the clouds, and Kirk had left his jacket with his bag on the transport. Bones, who carried a backpack with him nearly all the time (including now), was sweating slightly. At one point, Kirk, smiling mischievously, turned around and planted an unexpected kiss on Bones's lips. They stayed locked together for a few minutes before Kirk detached himself, laughing, and tugged Bones onwards.

They had walked for a few minutes, encountering short, stumpy trees and larger and larger igneous outcroppings when they heard a distant yell.

"Did you hear that?" Kirk demanded, stopping and putting his hand on Bones's shoulder to quiet him.

"Of course I heard it, Jim!" snapped Bones.

"Down here," said Kirk, dragging Bones down a ravine and into the bowl small valley, rimmed with the tiny, shrublike trees and edged by spiky rocks. Bones tripped on a loose chip of granite and fell heavily. Kirk ran back for him. Cursing, Bones waved him away, clutching at his ankle.

"Twisted," he gasped. "You go on, make sure nothing's happenin'. I'll be right there."

"Okay," said Kirk, worried. He pecked Bones's mouth and dashed off.

"Crazy kid," muttered Bones. It suddenly occurred to him that there could be Romulans down there, luring Kirk into a trap. He pulled himself to his feet, wincing as his ankle ground horribly—might be a fracture, actually—broke a branch off a tree to use as a cane, and limped hurriedly down the gully.

Kirk met him near the bottom, eyes wide. "It's Pike and Dr. Eleen," he panted. "She's gone into labor. Come on, I'll help you down."

"Have you called paramedics?" he demanded as Kirk scrabbled up the rock in front of him. Why had they even gone in this way? There was a perfectly reasonable entrance over to the right that Pike and Eleen had clearly used.

"Can't," grunted Kirk, losing breath as Bones leaned on him to heave himself over a waist-high boulder. "Communicators can't get through for some reason."

"Then run out to the track and call! They'll take long enough to get here as it is!"

"That's why I'm getting you down," said Kirk.

Bones froze. "What?"

"You're pre-med, aren't you? Come on, arm on my shoulders, like that. You'll have to help until the paramedics show up."

"Are you _insane_? I've never delivered a baby alone before!"

"You've observed, haven't you?"

"Yeah, a couple times, but—"

"Better than me or Pike," said Kirk stubbornly. "Think of it as a pop quiz in physiology." They had made it to the bottom. An idyllic little lake was holed in the center of the valley. Eleen was lying against a nearly vertical piece of flat granite, eyes closed and panting. Pike was expressionless as he knelt beside her, his hands wrapped in a tight knot on his lap.

"Git, Jim," growled Bones, pushing Kirk towards the easier entrance. Kirk shot one worried look at Pike and Eleen and started back up the trail.

Bones limped over to Pike and Eleen, exchanging a black look with Pike. He dropped painfully to the ground at Eleen's side, rummaging through his backpack for his medical tricorder and sonic cleanser. He ran the cleanser over his hands and lower arms, pulled out the tricorder, and automatically placed a hand on Eleen's shoulder to steady her as he ran the tricorder across her chest and abdomen. She hissed, pulling away from his touch.

Bones, who was sweaty, angry, and in considerable pain, was not about to accept that reaction from someone he was trying quite selflessly to help.

"Now you listen to me, woman," he snapped at her. "I'll touch you in any way or manner that my professional judgment indicates."

Eleen glared at him. "You're not even in college," she said breathlessly. "Professional judgment…"

"I'm a damn sight more qualified than either of you to help out."

"I have delivered ten children!" cried Eleen. "I know my way through childbirth—" She let out a cry of pain.

"Then tell me exactly what's wrong with the baby," said Bones harshly. "You can't? Funny, I can. It's a breech birth, kneelin', and you're presentin' Gorricker's syndrome as well, both of which are complications _I_ can deal with but _you_ can't. Mr. Pike, help me get her back against this rock; I'm not an escalator."

Bones and Pike wrestled Eleen into position. "If you've given birth so many times, why couldn't you tell that you were goin' into labor soon?" Bones demanded. "You're nine months, if not more. You shouldn't be out to pasture in your condition."

"The typical gestation period for Romulans and Vulcans is ten months," said Eleen tightly. "The child I am carrying is half Romulan, half Vulcan. I have only ever given birth to human infants before this."

Bones gaped at her. "Why didn't you say so!" he cried.

"You're the one with the tricorder!"

"It's just taking basic readin's, the thing assumes you know what _species _you're—never mind. You're a surrogate, then? Unless you're also hidin' pointed ears and a shadowed past from me?"

"No pointed ears. The child is not mine."

"_Great_. I don't know hell about Romulan and Vulcan anatomy. Might not be Gorricker's." Bones frowned down at her. "You're already at five centimeters. How'd you manage so fast?"

"Aren't you—the doctor?" gasped Eleen. Bones was impressed; he knew enough of childbirth to figure that if he were female, he'd be sobbing for an epidural round about now. But this lady hadn't so much as screamed, although her yells were unnaturally loud and contained an impressively high concentration of curses.

"Technically, _you_ are," said Bones. "But don't let that hang y'up. Ten births, you say? Guess it makes sense you're at five—five and a half, now—centimeters. Alright, hold still, I have to make sure we don't have a cord prolapse." Bones had participated in a delivery last year, at his father's hospital, but it had been a standard presentation, not _this_. Still, he knew the old theory behind dealing with breech births and wasn't about to back out.

x

_Pike wrapped his hand around Vina's as he looked into Eleen's eyes. Eleen was five months into her voyage with the _Kelvin_, which she had finally accepted in return for a number of high-dollar conditions._

"_The problem is," Pike said to her after a long breath, "that Vina cannot carry to term. We were wondering if—if you would, perhaps, consent to be a surrogate for our child, since you have previous experience. We ask not just as friends—we would be more than willing to pay you for your troubles."_

_Eleen rose, seeming oddly uncomfortable. "I—I would prefer not to," she said after pacing around the settee. She did not look him in the eye. "There are certain—complications—which prevent me from carrying to term at this time." She was unwilling to say more. Struck by her awkwardness, Pike left, taking Vina with him._

_A week later—and a week before they reached Calder II, where the _Kelvin _was destroyed—Winona came to Pike with a pale, drawn expression on her face. She had just seen Vina and Eleen kissing._

_Pike confronted Vina later that night._

_Vina stared at him after he told her what a friend (he did not want to implicate Winona) had witnessed. _

"_I want a divorce," she said simply._

_Pike gaped at her. "I'm sorry?" he said, feeling his heart go cold._

"_If you're going to be like this—"_

"_Like—like _what_? I don't blame you, Vina, I just—I'd rather you had asked permission before sleeping with Julie. I don't mind, but—"_

"_You don't _mind_. How can you not mind? I'm in love with her. That's why I've been sneaking off to see her. I don't want you anymore, Chris. I don't want a child with you, either."_

_Pike had no idea what to do. He was confused and shocked and frightened. He had been with Vina for five years and he had never seen her like this._

"_You said—before, when we got the tests—you said you wanted a child, with me—"_

"_I lied," said Vina harshly. "I don't need you. I've already picked her."_

"_Picked—her? For what? I don't understand."_

"_Now there's a fine choice for intelligent offspring," she said caustically. "I'm glad I didn't go with you."_

"_Offspring? As in children?"_

"_What else? I'd have more luck crossing you with a computer. You're too dedicated to your work, Chris. You have no idea what's required to raise a child."_

"_Vina—of course I do. I was completely willing to take as much time off as necessary to raise—"_

"_Starfleet is about to promote you," a voice interrupted._

_Pike spun around. Eleen was standing in the doorway, in her characteristic position of hands on hips, staring at Pike like he was an insect._

"_They're giving you your own ship," she said bluntly. "As soon as the _Kelvin_ finishes its repairs on Calder II, they're dropping you off on Earth for your new commission. She's called the _Endeavor_."_

_Pike didn't move._

"_I found out from George, who heard if from Robau himself. If you and Vina conceive now, you'll spend no time with your child before they send you off to parts unknown. And Vina never lied about wanting a child. She's _been_ wanting a child, but she hasn't mentioned it because she thought you were too interested in promotions—which you are."_

"_I—Vina, you—" But Pike had no idea what to say. _

"_I'm leaving," said Vina, standing and crossing the room to take Eleen's hand. Her normally cheerful face had hardened into a cold mask, much like the one Eleen was wearing._

"_Take your captaincy. I hope you enjoy it."_

_Neither of them looked back as they left the room._

_The next day, Pike tried to go talk to Vina, heading for Eleen's quarters, but Eleen refused to let him in. In fact, when Pike, incensed, started to yell at her, she fired her phaser at him, stunning him. This was not something you were allowed to do on a Federation vessel without consequences. She was transferred to another ship for the duration of her experiment, not punished otherwise, since they were so much in need of her expertise. Vina followed her to the _Halley_, another Kelvin type, where Eleen restarted her experiments and heard the news that the _USS Kelvin _had been destroyed on Calder II. Horrified, Vina resigned Starfleet the next day and set out for Earth, where the survivors had been shipped._

_She was maimed and paralyzed in a shuttlecraft accident before reaching the planet. The doctors told her she had no hope of regaining movement. _

_After a time, she committed suicide._

x

"Ten children?" said Pike suddenly, between contractions. Eleen looked up at him and he pushed the sweaty hair out of her eyes, staring down at her. "On the _Kelvin_, you said you had been a surrogate for nine infants."

"I had one after," she said, and was relieved when her pains came again.

x

The race was going strangely well. Spock was trying not to let his luck lull him into a false sense of security, but it was a hard thing. The _Narada_ had clipped a tough, well-built car called the _Stewart_ and was lagging in the race, flashing between twentieth and thirtieth. The _Enterprise_ remained in the top ten, trading places with the _Stewart_, the _Lexington_ (who had placed first in the last race), and the _Constellation_, which was, at times, as dangerous as the _Narada_, but had thus far behaved well. A few other cars, including the _Defiant _and the _Negh'Var_ (an entry from Valor High in San Francisco manned mainly by Klingons), were giving the _Enterprise_ a run for its money.

At the halfway mark of the race Spock had caught up with his fuel consumption and was operating on exactly half of the predicted dilithium crystal output. He had no fuel to spare, but that was alright; he didn't see himself needing a hard burn at any point in the race.

He lingered near eighth, allowing the _Hornet_ and the _Rotarran _to pass him. He caught occasional glances of the _Narada_ in his back mirrors. The Romulan vessel danced around mid-pack, continually attempting to break through into a higher rank but being thwarted each time. None of the hovercars were at all willing to cooperate with the _Narada_, not after what she had done last time.

And then, before he knew it, they were at the end of the race. Spock could see the finish line. Deeply surprised, he kept most of his attention behind him, on the _Narada_, which had managed to reach eighteenth but advanced no further. Maneuvering forwards, the _Enterprise_ captured fourth from the _Constellation_ and crossed the finish to resounding cheers.

x

The paramedics did not take long to arrive. Kirk waited for them at the entrance to the track, angrily fending off the track officials who were eager to cite him for breaking his suspension. He couldn't help staring at the status screen instead of the road while he waited; as he watched, the _Narada_ went from second to thirty-seventh, and the _Enterprise_ dropped to fifth from first. He wondered desperately what was happening.

The ambulance arrived screeching. Kirk gesticulated wildly that they should pass under the racetrack. The race officials attempted to give the paramedics trouble but were thoroughly chewed out for obstructing the passage of an emergency vehicle by the driver, a determined-looking woman named Beverly who pulled Kirk aboard and asked him where to go. He directed them down the small path on the inside of the track, the ambulance flattening another four feet of grass as it barreled down the valley.

Bones looked up to see four paramedics bearing down on him. He scrambled out of their way as they spread their kits around Eleen, hiking her onto a stretcher and checking her vitals.

"The child is half Romulan, half Vulcan," gasped Eleen. "I've been taking Romulan and Vulcan hormones that should make the labor faster and easier for a human, but I was supposed to have a midwife of each species by my side during the delivery. The baby—it's Barda and Ezar's."

Kirk gaped. Bones was unsurprised; what other half Romulan, half Vulcan child was being born of a human mother?

"No matter whose it is, you're going to have a rough time of it," said Beverly grimly. "It's breech and presenting Gorricker's."

"I know," panted Eleen. "I feel—no worse than normal."

"You know?" said Beverly sharply. "How can you know?"

"Him," Eleen managed, nodding to Bones.

Beverly whipped around, fixing Bones with an expectant stare. Bones quickly explained who he was and what had happened before they had arrived.

The baby came rapidly, within the next hour. Pike sent Kirk (who was very tired of being a messenger boy by this point) back to the track to tell everybody what had happened. Pike stayed because he knew Eleen, and Bones because he wanted to observe. Beverly even let Bones help since Eleen didn't seem to like anybody else touching her.

Kirk beat off the track officials again and found the hoverclub, who were dancing around the _Enterprise_ and brandishing its fourth place metal at the Romulans, who looked like they were barely restraining themselves from attacking. Spock had taken charge in the absence of Pike and sent Scotty to fetch the transport.

"Where have you been?" cried Chekov, running up to Kirk and throwing his arms around him. "We placed fourth! I went to look for you but I could not find you. Where are Meester Pike and Leonard?"

"Long story," said Kirk, hugging Chekov back. "Fourth? Seriously? That's _awesome_." He smiled at Spock, who looked slightly happy with a pretty ribbon around his neck and Uhura clutching his arm tightly. "Congratulations," Kirk said to him, unconsciously draping his own arm around Chekov.

"Thank you, James," said Spock. "Do you know the whereabouts of Mr. Pike at this time?"

"Yeah, actually, he's back at the center of the track," said Kirk. "Dr. Eleen went into labor. He and Bones are with her and the paramedics."

"Bad timing," said Uhura sympathetically. "Is she alright?"

"I think so," said Kirk. "Bones had to be the OB/GYN until the paramedics arrived. For some reason, the communicator won't work in the valley they're in."

Spock gave him the eyebrow. "Considering this area was once a granite batholith which was destroyed by an accidental nuclear explosion in the late 2100s, that fact is not surprising. The amphibole hornblende in the batholith shards interferes with the amphibole termite in Nokia communicators such as your own."

Kirk stared at him. "Do you have the answer to everything?"

"I do not pretend to be a walking encyclopedia—"

"Could have fooled me," Kirk muttered.

"—but I am extremely intelligent. To utilize metaphor, my reservoirs of knowledge are deep."

"Great. Let me know how that goes." Kirk pulled Chekov off of him. "Go talk to Sulu," he said. "I'm going to go back to check on them. I don't know how long this is going to take, so you guys just hang out here, okay?"

"Okay," said Spock innocently, trying to sound like he wasn't mocking Kirk.

Kirk glared at him and trudged back to the makeshift hospital.

x

Eleen gave birth to a baby boy and was swept off with the child to the nearest hospital to meet the parents and undergo exhaustive exams. Before she left, Eleen made sure Kirk was cleared of assault so that he could ride back with the others. She actually smiled at Bones and nodded to Pike, who nodded back, his face blank, as Beverly wheeled her into the ambulance.

By the time they got back to San Francisco, it was midnight. Pike looked the most exhausted, but everybody thought Spock was probably more tired, considering he'd been passed out on Uhura's lap ever since they got on I-5. He twitched when he slept and nobody could talk to Uhura since she was busy gazing lovingly at his sleeping form, which made Kirk fake-retch and Bones slap him upside the head. Sulu fell asleep on Scotty's shoulder and Scotty carefully switched places with Chekov, who was feeling oddly protective of his friend.

"Wake up," Chekov whispered to Sulu when they were driving through West Portal. "Hikaru, we are close to home."

Sulu shifted and smiled blearily up at him. "Thought I fell asleep on Scotty," he muttered, sitting up and flattening his hair. "Where'd you come from?"

"Scotty's shoulder was getting numb," said Chekov. "In Russia, our limbs do not fall asleep."

Sulu laughed. "I'm sure they don't," he said.

When they had gotten out of the transport and put the _Enterprise_ to bed, they went their separate ways under the beaming streetlights. Chekov leaned over and pecked Sulu quickly on the cheek, then rushed away, blushing furiously. Sulu stared after him, a huge grin on his face.

x


	18. Chapter 18: The Apple

A/N: The following things and people heavily influenced this chapter: annime 1231's deviantart gallery; the LJ community entitled startrek_diary; _Voyager_; the _TOS_ episode _Spectre of the Gun_; Liam Ironarm, Dragon of the Shang, and Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan; _Arrested Development_; the _BtVS_ episode _Go Fish_; the scene with the apple in the _Twilight_ movie (hehe); Vulcan hand porn; and my girlfriend.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Eighteen: The Apple_

x

Still worked up over Bones, Chapel had sex with Gaila. It was great, but they were both keenly aware that it was pity sex, so afterwards they had a cleansing talk about men.

"He probably liked both of you, and he just chose Jim because they have a history," Gaila said, attempting to restrain her extremely tangled hair with a scrunchie. "I mean, he's being nice about everything, right? He hasn't ignored you at all?"

Chapel buried her face in a pillow for a moment, the clean lines of her shoulder blades obviously clenched. A muffled "no" came from the pillow's depths.

"What is it?" said Gaila, stroking those shoulder blades.

"Well…" Chapel sat up, draping the sheet around her body and leaning towards Gaila. "Actually, _I've_ been ignoring _him_. He keeps trying to talk to me, but I never talk back. I just go all awkward."

"What? Why?" Gaila demanded. "You _should_ talk to him. You have to be friends with him to like him; it means you're interested in his personality, not just his looks. Unrequited crushes are fine, you know; you don't have to worry about getting too attached or something. Just—get to know him again, and maybe when he and Jim break up you can swoop in for the kill. Only, you know, wait a while. Don't be a rebound or anything."

"Obviously," said Chapel. "But I'm worried I'll go off the deep end, like Nyota."

"Don't even get me started on that girl," growled Gaila, visibly tensing. "Her attitude is completely unhealthy. She won't go out with us anymore. And Spock doesn't have any friends, so it's just the two of them, fucking _constantly_—I don't mean that literally."

"She talks to me a lot," said Chapel, trying to stick up for Uhura. "On IM and in class. But yeah, we never do anything together."

"High school relationships," shrugged Gaila. "She'll get over him eventually."

"I think so. I know what it's like to be obsessed with Spock. It's very easy. There's something quite intoxicating about him—like you," Chapel added to Gaila, fluttering her eyelashes playfully.

Gaila's hand disappeared under the sheets and Chapel shuddered at her light touch. "Thanks for the compliment," purred Gaila, removing her hand.

Chapel's eyelids flickered. "Wha?"

"You were talking about Spock," Gaila reminded her, then distracted Chapel again by licking her fingers.

"We could continue the conversation later," Chapel suggested, watching the tip of Gaila's middle finger disappear into her mouth.

"Sounds good to me," said Gaila eagerly. "I'll grab the strap-on."

x

Spock got to school early the Monday after the second race. He had swim team practice at seven. He saw Bones's truck parked behind the football stadium—the homecoming game was that Friday and the coach was taking every available moment to drill his players. Spock walked into the natatorium and headed straight for the steamy changing rooms. He was a good swimmer, but not the best; he was better at fencing, karate, and _Suus mahna_—the combat arts—than he was at swimming, but he enjoyed the sport because it was calming. His demeanor and appearance tended to alarm the other competitors, which gave Enterprise High's best swimmers a slightly unfair advantage.

Uhura, who was at tennis practice, had mentioned regretting not being able to see him in his swimsuit, which was very, very small. He wasn't particularly embarrassed about it, but he found he had a difficult time making people take him seriously in a Speedo, was frustrating.

So when he walked out of the locker room and into the pool area, his goggles on his forehead (he'd left his glasses in the locker room), a towel draped over his arm, wearing nothing but his swimsuit and a pair of flip-flops and encountered a blurry James Kirk, also Speedo-clad, he paused.

Kirk, who was doing a leg stretch, grinned sideways at him. "You're on the swim team too, then?" he said, giving Spock a blatant once-over.

Spock pulled himself together and stuck his nose in the air. "Obviously," he said, attempting to brush past Kirk. But Kirk had other ideas. He leapt up, his lithe body unfolding as he leaned forward to grasp Spock's arm.

"Can I help you?" said Spock coolly, wishing he had his glasses so that he could see Kirk's expression.

"Let's see who's faster," said Kirk mischievously. "Bet I can beat you in any style you choose."

"Breaststroke," said Spock quickly. _He would be best at the most difficult stroke_, thought Kirk.

"Yeah, I could beat you at that," said Kirk cockily, even though he wasn't sure he could. "One hundred meters?"

Spock was better at sprints, but he wasn't about to be the one to change the rules of the engagement. He nodded shortly and pulled on his goggles, which were prescription, so his eyesight returned, and he resisted the temptation to use his newfound sense of sight to visually explore Kirk's very bare body. They lined up at the pool's edge, counted down together, and took off.

To Spock's surprise, he _won_. He bobbed at the edge of the pool, watching as Kirk pushed through the last few meters and surfaced, looking tired.

"You're good," panted Kirk. "You never looked to see how I was doing."

Spock was confused. "Checking on the status of one's opponent is detrimental to one's own concentration."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "No, it's _human_ to want to see where the competition is."

"Might I remind you, James, that I am not purely human. How long have you been swimming for?"

Kirk shrugged. "A year. I could have beaten you in butterfly."

Spock was impressed despite himself. He had been swimming for four years. "I doubt you could have. You claimed to be able to beat me in breaststroke, yet you could not."

Kirk looked frustrated. Spock found this disturbingly adorable.

"That's not the point," said Kirk, frowning.

"Then what is the point, James?"

"I—well," Kirk hesitated, flustered. "That's _beyond _the point."

"Ah," said Spock wisely, pulling his goggles off so that he could raise his eyebrow properly. "I see. I'll be going now." He hauled himself out of the pool and walked off, back straight. He successfully refrained from looking back at Kirk, but it was a near thing.

Kirk, though, stared after Spock, and it wasn't lovingly. Something about that boy just really pissed him off.

x

In the football locker room after practice, a shirtless and sweaty Bones poked at his tender ankle. The paramedics had dealt with his fracture after the baby had been born, but the ankle still hurt a bit when he exercised on it, which was quite bad, considering the homecoming game was Friday.

He told the coach, who sent him to the school's physical therapist, who x-rayed it and advised two weeks of crutches and ice packs.

Bones gaped at him.

"Is there another option?" he said.

"Yes," said the PT. "Ruining it."

Bones was deeply skeptical of this diagnosis. He flipped through his anatomy book and decided something could be done. He called his own doctor and made an appointment for after school. His coach nearly had an aneurism when she heard that her star quarterback was badly injured, but Bones calmed the woman down. He tried not to think about what not playing the game would mean for the team. He was the end goal of most of their plays. He scored a vast majority of the touchdowns. He was the beating heart of the body that was the team, and one of his valves had evidently given out on him.

_Eleen owes me _big_ time, _Bones thought as he accepted crutches from the PT. He would use them for the rest of the day, just in case.

x

The rumor spread like wildfire around the school—_McCoy's on crutches. Valor High is gonna beat the shit out of us on homecoming weekend. And most of their players are Klingons_! Bones's perpetual scowl didn't help matters; everybody assumed he was unhappy about the game instead of just being himself.

His classmates also noticed the way his eyes lit up when he saw Kirk dashing towards him before first period, concern evident on his handsome face. Making room for Bones's crutches, Kirk kissed Bones thoroughly before asking what had happened. Bones reminded him of twisting his ankle at the racetrack, which Kirk had honestly forgotten about. Kirk immediately demanded that he carry Bones's books, which Bones found heart-meltingly romantic, and escorted him to English.

x

It happened during fourth period. Kirk and Bones were walking (and limping) to lunch, discussing Spock, whom Kirk had been ranting about since that morning.

"You're really this pissed just because he beat you in swimmin'?" said Bones, looking amused. "I didn't know _you_ were so competitive."

Kirk hiked a false smile on his face. "I didn't know he was so much fun to compete against."

Bones rolled his eyes at Kirk's comment and then stopped suddenly, his head tilted.

"What's that noise?" He frowned.

Kirk stopped too, still grinning. "What noise?"

Bones looked further down the hall to investigate and stalked off in the direction of the faint banging. "Nevermind—you can't hear anything over the sound of your goddamn ego, anyway."

Kirk burst into a real smile and sprinted after Bones, who hadn't gone far. "Left," he murmured in Bones's ear, directing him into a smaller hallway lined with lockers. They worked their way down the corridor, listening intently for the occasional rattles. Finally they stopped before one. Kirk yanked the locker open and Chekov, bright red and clutching his physics textbooks to his chest, tumbled out mid-knock.

"Jim!" he exclaimed. "Leo! I was—I was—"

"Pavel, how many times have you been stuffed in a locker this year?" asked Kirk, leaning against the bank of lockers and looking faintly amused.

Chekov brushed his curly hair out of his face and sniffed, not meeting their eyes. "Only a few times."

"Who's been doin' it?" Bones growled, somehow extra intimidating on crutches.

"Nobody," Chekov tried to say, but Bones raised his eyebrows alarmingly at him and hobbled forward, cornering Chekov against the open locker door.

"Who," repeated Bones in a much more imperative tone of voice, leaning close in to the younger boy, "has been doin' this?"

"Some seniors," Chekov managed.

"Whose names are?"

"I do not know, Leo."

"Like hell you don't."

Chekov shivered for a moment, then seemed to give up. "Raj Rapali," he said finally. "Raj and his friends Wyatt, Wergil, Morgan, and Holliday."

"That stuck-up guy in our calculus class?" said Kirk incredulously to Bones, referring to Raj. "I could take him blindfolded."

"His friends are a different matter," said Bones. "They're tough cookies, Holliday especially. He's in my physiology class and to be honest, he scares the hell outta me." Bones patted Chekov's shoulder sympathetically. "No wonder you didn't say anythin', kid," he said. "Holliday's kinda scary, isn't he?"

"Da," Chekov muttered.

"Isn't Raj one of the homecoming court?" Kirk asked.

"Yup," said Bones. "It's not always the nice guys. He looks good enough that everybody's fine with nominatin' him, but they also know his true colors. He wouldn't mess with me on purpose. Guess he doesn't know I'm friends with Pavel."

Pavel looked up at Bones. "Friends?" he said in a small voice, sounding surprised.

Bones gave a raucous laugh. "Of course, kid," he said. "We haven't known you for long, but you don't think Hikaru's the only one who cares, do you?" Bones grinned evilly at Kirk. "Wanna go kick some ass?"

"_I'll_ deal with it," said Kirk sternly. "_You_ need to stay off that ankle. Pavel? Let's go have some lunch and pick up the posse so that we can deal with your little problem, alright?"

"Alright," squeaked Chekov, trying to rearrange the books he was still clutching messily and managing to drop all of them. Kirk grinned at him and picked them up. Chekov blushed. Bones, who was not at all intimidated by Chekov's little crush on Kirk, smiled indulgently.

"Even just watchin' should be fun," said Bones.

"Oh, I think it will be," said Kirk.

Chekov was worried.

x

Kirk, Bones, and Chekov were five minutes late to lunch, but Scotty had saved them their usual spot at the senior table, which was the longest table in the cafeteria and placed right up against the railing of the open area, so that all eyes were generally on it. Chekov had been sitting there with Sulu all year, but he was still nervous about the hundreds of worried eyes trained on him as he approached it; since he was with Bones, the attention he received was quadrupled.

"Damn people don't know how to relax," Bones growled, swinging himself onto his seat next to Riley and shoving his crutches under the table. "I'll be fine."

"You will? Are you sure?" Kevin Riley demanded. His on-again, off-again British boyfriend, John Kyle, rolled his eyes.

"It's just a game, Kevin," Kyle said.

"It's the _homecoming_ game!" Riley cried. "We _have_ to win!"

Kyle took an insolent bite of his ice cream. "You'd do better to spend your time with _real_ football," he advised Bones. "None of those _free throws_ and _third downs_. Just red cards, offside, and a few extra meters."

"I do like soccer better," Bones admitted. "But I'm damn good at football. The Friday night lights shine in my blood."

"Typical Southerner," said Kirk, who had just gotten onto the soccer team with Bones and Kyle and was rearing for the season to start. "None of your priorities are right. Football first, _then_ soccer?"

"Sports," announced Sulu, glaring at everybody, "bore me. Can we move on?"

"You don't even care about the homecoming game?" cried Riley, sounding personally insulted.

"I _do_ care about the homecoming game," said Sulu appeasingly. "It's the only game I go to. Plus, I have to go this year, since I somehow got elected to the court."

"Fopularify's a bish," said Bones around a large bite of cheeseburger.

Kirk had the gall to look nauseated. "Chew and swallow, man," he said.

Bones stuck his tongue out at him. The sight was disgusting.

"He's just trying to get back at _you_," said Gaila to Kirk. "Scotty's been a bad influence on your eating-slash-talking habits."

"Ah 'ave nae!" protested Scotty, spraying Gaila with bits of sandwich. She gave him a slow look that would have killed a lesser man and brushed crumbs off the front of her shirt dangerously.

"'orry," Scotty muttered, shrinking back down in his chair and clutching his BLT protectively.

"So, who are each of you going to homecoming with?" Kirk asked perkily, attempting to change the subject.

"Scotty, for reasons unknown," said Gaila, glaring sideways at him. Scotty continued to look meek.

"This berk," said Kyle, nodding to Riley, who just scowled.

"Ruth," said Janice Rand, smiling.

"I asked Joe," said Tony Giotto, blushing slightly. Everybody grinned widely at him; Giotto had been enamored of Joe Tormolen for quite a while and hadn't acted upon his attraction until now.

"Good for you," said Chapel sweetly. Kirk looked at her expectantly.

"Haven't been asked," she said as carelessly as possible.

Bones frowned. "Damn shame," he said, and winked at her. Chapel grinned despite herself.

"I am going with Sylwia Beecher," said Chekov happily, much to the surprise of everybody at the table. Sulu stared at him.

"That—freshman?" said Kirk, thinking that calling her "that fucking gorgeous freshman" like he wanted to would offend Bones.

"The girl similar in appearance to the risin' sun?" said Bones. (_Screw you_, thought Kirk.) "She's a stunner. I thought—" Bones paused, appearing to figure something out. "I thought Sylvia was goin' with Raj Rapali."

Chekov nodded dreamily. "She was," he said. "She said she'd rather go with me. We haf differential equations together and she said she liked the way I harmonize my functions in Laplace equations."

Sulu was still attempting to force his face into a pleased expression, but he managed to say, "When did she ask you?"

"This morning," said Chekov. He looked elated for a moment, then suddenly sad. "It is why Raj stuffed me in that locker."

Kirk and Bones hadn't really had a chance to tell anybody about the locker incident. They'd been planning on breaking it to Sulu quietly somewhere where he could destroy things without anybody else noticing. Everybody watched out of the corner of their eye as Sulu broke the plastic fork he was holding.

"_What_ happened?" Sulu demanded in a high voice, ignoring the crushed cutlery and focusing entirely on Chekov.

"Raj and his friends, they told me that I was not allowed to go with Sylwia to homecoming, and that I should back off, but I refused, so they pushed me into a locker and left me there," said Chekov, staring at his plate, his face flushed in embarrassment.

"Pavel," said Sulu sincerely, putting his arm over Chekov's shoulders. "I'm so sorry."

"It was not your fault," said Chekov, confused.

"I'm just expressing sympathy," said Sulu dryly.

"Oh," said Chekov, and smiled at him. Sulu smiled back.

Everybody else was quiet until Gaila cleared her throat awkwardly and said loudly, "So, Hikaru, who are you going with?"

"Nobody," said Sulu, his shoulders drooping. "Haven't found the right person yet." Quite a few people had asked him but he'd turned them all down; he had been getting up the courage to ask Chekov, but it was evidently too late for that.

"Hey!" said Chapel, leaning across Chekov and looking at Sulu. "Want to come with me?"

"Sure!" said Sulu, perking up. "That'd be fun!"

They grinned idiotically at each other for a moment before somebody cleared their throat and everybody looked up to see Spock leaning over Bones. Bones blinked up at him, bemused.

"Can I help you, Spock?"

"Yes," said Spock, looking uncomfortable. "I have a favor to ask of you, Leonard."

"What is it?"

"Could I… speak to you in a more private location?"

Bones shrugged. "My ankle really hurts," he lied, unwilling to get up.

"Ah. Well," coughed Spock self-consciously. "I suppose I shall address the question to the table, then." He glanced around at all of them, clearly ill at ease. "I think am, as you would say… missing something. Nyota is angry at me."

Everybody was biting his or her lip, trying not to laugh. Kirk glanced to the end of the senior table, where Spock and Uhura's lunches were sitting abandoned.

"You know, that's really somethin' you'll have to work out for yourself, Spock," said Bones, sounding just as awkward as Spock.

"Normally, I would attempt to ascertain the reason behind her irritation for myself, but I suspect that it is human in origin," said Spock, putting his hands behind his back. "Nyota seems to display particularly displeasing facial expressions whenever the word 'homecoming' appears or is mentioned."

"Are you takin' her?" asked Bones.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you takin' her to homecomin'?"

"What do you mean?"

Bones stared at him. "The dance, you green-blooded idiot. Are you takin' her to the homecomin' dance?"

"I am not sure—"

"You haven't _asked_ her?"

"No—why would I? Am I supposed to?"

"Of course y'are!" cried Bones. "You're _datin'_ her! That means you're supposed to ask her to homecomin'!"

"Ah," said Spock, enlightened. "That must be the problem. I will rectify this immediately. Thank you for your help, Leonard."

And he returned to his seat just before Uhura came back from the restroom.

"My God," groaned Bones. "I don't know how he survives on Earth."

Kirk watched as Spock reached over the table and took Uhura's hand in his, speaking. She stared at him for a minute, listening, and then smiled widely and nodded. They both looked irritatingly pleased with themselves.

"Hey," said Bones, snapping his fingers in Kirk's face. "You there, Jim?"

"What? Yes," said Kirk quickly. "Does anybody know _why_ they're still dating?"

"It's probably the passionate sex," said Giotto sarcastically.

"It could be," said Gaila seriously. "Vulcans are quite intense."

"I know Nyota's just as promiscuous as the rest of us, but Spock—he doesn't seem like the type," said Rand.

"How long have they been dating for?" said Chapel.

"A little over a month, now," said Kirk.

"Shockin'," said Bones. "I think Nyota's longest relationship 'til now was two weeks, with Liam."

"Ferrolin?" said Kirk. "In our history class?"

"Yeah," said Bones. "He's pretty cool. He could kick all y'all's asses in martial arts." Bones glanced around and saw him at the other end of the senior table, a few seats from Raj and his friends. Liam was eating alone, reading a book. Whenever Raj's friends got too loud, he would glance pointedly at them and they would quiet down.

"Huh," said Bones to himself. "That's interestin'."

x

After lunch, as they were heading back to class, Kirk swiped an apple from one of the complimentary bowls of fruit next to the vending machines and promptly dropped it in surprise when a voice behind him said, "James? If I may have a word?"

The apple rolled towards the voice. A booted toe popped it into the air and caught it with open palms. Kirk looked up from the outstretched hands to see Spock watching him.

"Nice reflexes," said Kirk, plucking the apple out of Spock's fingers without touching him. "What do you want?"

"Since I am sadly ignorant of many Earth traditions, I was wondering if you could enlighten me as to any other important rituals humans observe during the time of homecoming," said Spock.

"Uh," said Kirk, starting back towards Pike's room. "You dress formally for the dance. And you should probably take her to the game."

"Formally meaning—a tuxedo?" Spock trailed him like a duckling following its mother.

"Suit and tie, at the least," said Kirk. "She'll wear a nice dress. You should ask her what color her dress is going to be so you can get the same color tie." Kirk was slightly unnerved by how intent Spock was on Kirk's every word.

"Are there any traditions to be observed when we attend the football game?" said Spock.

"Do you actually know anything about football?"

"Yes; before I came to Earth, I read an American football rulebook and am in complete understanding of the game."

"Well… good. Buy her a hot dog or something; that's pretty traditional."

Spock made a face. "The human ability to consume flesh is questionable, but your tendency to combine multiple dubiously named meat products into one truly disgusting package simply escapes me."

Kirk didn't say anything in reply. Spock looked over at him. Kirk was staring at Bones, who was standing further down the hall, talking to Liam Ferrolin.

"Do you like Pavel?" Kirk asked abruptly. "Do you care about him, I mean?"

"I suppose," said Spock slowly. "He is an intelligent boy with a good heart."

"And you don't like bullies, right?"

"I do not," said Spock coldly.

"Meet us after school in the library," said Kirk. "Raj Rapali and his friends have been ganging up on Chekov. We're going to have a talk with them."

"I see," said Spock, understanding the euphemism and feeling a small blossom of rage unfurl inside of him. "I will certainly be there."

x

Kirk's plan was brilliant, even though Chapel, Gaila, _and_ Rand slapped him after he proposed it, and Ruth and Uhura looked pissed.

Bones looked like he was trying not to laugh as he told off the girls for slapping his boyfriend. Kirk scowled at him. Still, everybody had to agree that it was the best idea that anybody had come up with, so they put it in action.

At the end of calculus, the five girls walked by Raj Rapali's desk. He was sitting with Holliday. Both of them watched as the girls walked by. Chapel did an obvious double-take of Raj and stopped, looking down at him, her arms tucked under her breasts to emphasize her low-cut shirt.

"Hey," she said sweetly. "Heard you don't have a date to homecoming anymore."

Raj glared at her. He was a tall, skinny Indian boy, with thin eyebrows and a weak jaw, but his large eyes were liquid and his cheekbones were hauntingly sharp. Chapel could see why people found him attractive.

"What business is it of yours?" Raj said coolly.

"I was simply wondering if you'd like to go with me," said Chapel, giving him her sexiest eyelash flutter and coy smile. "And if none of your other friends have dates, maybe… maybe they could take us." She motioned to Uhura, Ruth, Rand, and Gaila.

Raj frowned. "I thought you were dating that Vulcan," he said to Uhura. "And I thought you were a lesbian," he added to Ruth.

And here was where the reason they had slapped Kirk came in.

"I am," purred Ruth, snaking her arm around Rand's hip. Raj's mouth formed an "O" of comprehension. He looked over at Holliday, who was clearly intrigued.

"We'll be in the library after school," said Uhura. "Come get to know us?" The girls blew them kisses and sashayed away.

Across the room, Kirk mimed applause until Bones slapped at his hands irritably.

x

Raj and his four friends entered the dark library after school. It closed early on Mondays, but the door had been unlocked (thanks to Scotty's suspicious ability to use a lock-pick), and, preoccupied by the idea of five fiercely sexual girls taking them to homecoming and maybe more, they didn't think too much of their ease of entry.

Which was a huge mistake.

They moved forward in the dim light, hands scrabbling across computer desks and bookshelves, until they came to the open reading area filled with couches. Five shapes were sprawled across the cushions in the middle of the floor—the girls, staring up at them with sly expressions on their shadowed faces.

Suddenly, a single light came on above their heads. Its beam was focused on a single point directly behind the girls. Inside of the light stood a bright figure pointing a long, shining object at them.

Raj and his friends stopped in their tracks. The effect was melodramatic, but impressive.

More lights came on, and more people appeared, flanking them. James Kirk, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Leonard McCoy, leaning forward menacingly on his crutches. Montgomery Scott, holding a heavy pipe wrench. Spock, utterly expressionless.

"_En garde_," whispered Hikaru Sulu, brandishing his fencing foil.

Raj and his friends turned to run, but Chekov and Sylvia Beecher were behind them, arm in arm.

"I do not think you will go so soon," said Chekov quietly. "I think you will stay and listen to what we have to say to you."

"I don't," snarled Raj. He threw himself at Chekov.

It wasn't much of a brawl. _Everybody_ fought—even Bones managed to bash Holliday over the head with his crutches—but not for long. Spock and Liam Ferrolin dealt with the bullies rapidly. Spock beat Raj into a pulp, shockingly unable to control his rage. Liam, cartwheeling across the room, took out Wyatt, Vergil, Morgan, and Holliday with a stunning series of kidney kicks that left the four boys groaning.

"Spock—_Spock!_ Get _off_ of him!" cried Kirk, trying to grab Spock's arms, but a wild punch from Spock threw Kirk across the room. Uhura rushed over, putting a calming hand on Spock's shoulder, and the beatings slowed, then stopped. Raj was unconscious and bleeding. Spock sat back on his haunches, blank, Uhura kneeling next to him, a panicked expression on her face. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

"My God," whispered Bones, hobbling over. He dropped heavily to his knees, snapping at Chapel to bring him his backpack. Spock backed away, his eyes widening slowly.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Bones roared at Spock. "You can't just beat a man like this, no matter what he's done!" He waved his tricorder over Raj's still form and seemed to relax.

"He's fine," he said, gruffly surprised. "Except for cuts and bruises, he's fine."

"I nerve-pinched him," said Spock softly. "At the end."

Raj looked terrible, but most of his injuries were superficial. He had a black eye and multiple bruises, and was bleeding from a split lip and eyebrow. Bones roused him roughly.

"Let's talk a little more about who you're not takin' to homecomin'," said Bones, gathering Raj's collar in his fist almost delicately. "Sylvia can go with whoever she wants, y'hear? If I see you or your friends anywhere near her or Pavel again, I will let _him_—" (He nodded to Spock) "—loose on you, and you can possibly tell that he doesn't like bullies. Are we clear?"

Raj licked his lips. "We're clear," he said hoarsely.

"Good." Bones released Raj's shirt and Raj scrambled upwards. "You're free to go."

Raj dashed from the library. His four friends were still groaning on the floor.

"Leave 'em," said Bones, disgusted. "Maybe they'll get busted for breaking and entering. Let's get outta here."

x

"That scared me," said Uhura. Her voice was trembling. It was thirty minutes later and they were at her house, in the living room. "You can't—you can't _do_ something like that. Leo was right."

"I know," said Spock, staring at his hands, which he had laced together in his lap. Uhura was standing in front of him. "I am aware that my actions were—inappropriate."

"_Inappropriate_?" Uhura cried. "They were downright dangerous! You could have _killed_ him! Spock, you _never_ lose control."

"Nyota, you have simply never seen me lose control. I have before. I do not like bullies."

"Is that—" She stopped, steeled herself, and continued. "Are they why you—why you tried to kill yourself?"

Spock stiffened. "No," he replied immediately, too quickly. "I had—other reasons."

"Like _what?_" demanded Uhura. "Spock—_why?_"

He stood, his long body unfolding. He placed his hands on her upper arms and moved close to her.

"Believe me when I say that I would like to tell you," he said, staring into her eyes. "But I cannot. I have never spoken to anyone of this, and I—I simply will not, now."

"Are you sure?" she asked, caressing his cheek.

"I am sure," he said. He kissed her gently, trying to placate her. "I am sorry, but I am only so human. In fact, I want to tell you something. I have been meaning to show you this for a while." He held up his right hand in the Vulcan salute. "Place your hand against mine."

She did so, noticing the way his eyelids flickered when her cool skin pressed against his warm palm.

"When Vulcans and Romulans kiss, they do it—differently," he said. "Our hands are sensitive. The texture of our skin is different—do you feel?" She ran the pads of her fingers down his pointer and saw him tremble slightly.

"I feel," she breathed. "Spock—"

He gathered her in a fierce, human kiss while she massaged his hands. They gasped against each other.

"Please, Spock," she said. "Let's g-go to my room, please, I need you—"

"Yes, he whispered into her ear. "Yes. I need you too."

He cupped her face and kissed her once more, and then moved for the stairs. Their fingers united, her thumb stroking his knuckles as they climbed the steps. She was going to take thorough advantage of this revelation.

x

Kirk waited in the lobby while Bones went in to see his doctor.

"We can fix that easily," the doctor said, peering down at Bones's ankle. He was a balding man in medical teal. "The paramedic team didn't tell you to keep off of it?"

"Nope," said Bones, stretching out on the biobed. "I know it was dumb of me to go to practice so soon after a healin', but the big game's this Friday, and I had to show up."

"Athletes," sighed the doctor, poking at Bones's ankle. He picked up an osteoregenerator and frowned at its controls. "Doesn't anyone know how to turn off the program when they leave?" he muttered, pressing a few buttons. He leveled the device over Bones's ankle. "This will take about ten minutes," he said. "I'll be back when you're done."

Bones walked out of the hospital with a spring in his step. His ankle was perfectly fine, but the doctor had advised him not to run or do leg exercises for a week, with an exception for the game. Bones knew his coach wouldn't be happy about losing him for practice, but at least he was going to be able to play homecoming.

"You're in a great mood," commented Kirk as they slid into Bones's pickup. "Healing make you feel better?"

"_Much_ better," said Bones, starting the engine and shifting into reverse. He whistled a bar from _Amazing Grace_.

"This is a little weird," said Kirk, staring at Bones. "You're supposed to be grumpy. You're not on antidepressants, are you?"

Bones raised his eyebrow. "My demeanor is just naturally pessimistic. And _you're_ askin'?"

"Cheerful old me? What's wrong with that?"

"Well, didn't you—" Bones felt his good mood evaporate as he realized what he was going to ask. "—didn't you try to commit suicide?"

Kirk shrugged, his expression unchanging. "It was a different time," he said lightly, and Bones left it at that.

x


	19. Chapter 19: The Lights of Zetar

A/N: _Homecoming_, n.: A week, in late September/early October, when high schools across America have dress-up days, charity carnivals, athletic events, parades, and dances to welcome the students back (but really it's an excuse to par-tay). The homecoming court consists of 8-12 boys and girls—dukes and duchesses—from whom a king and queen are elected by the student body and crowned at some point during the festivities. Because I am from the South, we also had a mum exchange, where the boy obtains an elaborate flower-ribbon-medallion thing—a mum—and gives it to the girl, who gives him an arm garter with ribbons and bells in return. It's a little weird. Also, I totally BSed the football stuff. (It's football. Who really gives?)

Spock's reaction at the beginning of this chapter is based upon my own, and maybe yours too. I dedicate this chapter to Long-Haired Girl, who left me something to think about (maybe this says a lot about me, but I hadn't actually considered that), and Mukumuku, who not only has an awesome name but whose very long review gave me the impetus to finish this chapter. Thanks so much, guys!

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Nineteen: The Lights of Zetar_

x

Spock didn't feel any different.

On Monday, he sat in his car in the driveway for a little longer than he normally did, and walked slower to the front door of his house, feeling his footsteps reverberate up his legs. His clothes felt strange; unnatural on his body, as if they no longer fit properly. His mind was going a thousand miles an hour, but he took time to notice the pale veins on the leaves of the poplar trees that arched across the walkway between the garage and the house. Through the branches, the sky was overcast, an enclosing, deep purple-blue. His forearm itched. He scratched it distractedly.

That had been… _interesting_.

Sex with Uhura was not nearly as awkward as he'd expected it to be. While there had been a few mortifying moments, her sweetness had made everything better, smoother, more grounded and easy to deal with. Her eyes had gleamed joyfully as he had pressed against her, and no matter how much she had to help him and guide him, she had kept smiling, as if she couldn't believe what was happening.

Which made him feel terrible, because he _could_ believe what was happening, and why had she been so elated when he had felt so—normal? He had been happy, of course he had, but also incredibly nervous, and somehow also deeply guilty, though he tried to convince himself he was doing nothing wrong.

He frowned at I-Chaya, who greeted him with his usual exuberant licking. I-Chaya didn't notice anything, even though _sehlats_ had an incredible sense of smell. Well, maybe he sniffed at Spock's lower quarters a bit longer than usual, but that was probably just Spock being paranoid. Spock cleared his throat and said a soft 'hello' to his mother from the base of the stairs. He didn't really want to talk to her; he needed to take a shower first. He was convinced the scent of Uhura was still on him, obvious to everyone he encountered.

"Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes, dear," called Amanda from the kitchen. That was what he got for coming home so late. He rushed his shower, hoping his parents wouldn't ask _why_ he had come home and bathed, since he generally showered in the morning. _They probably will_, he thought pessimistically, scrubbing his legs with mint body wash. He turned off the water and dressed in two minutes, brushing down his sopping hair with his fingers and arriving downstairs fourteen minutes and forty-eight seconds after Amanda called to him about dinner. Sarek was already there. Sure enough, he turned to Spock.

"It is abnormal for you to cleanse yourself in the daytime," Sarek said. Any human would have said, _Weird that you took a shower._ It was one of those "You should see this as a question, unless you'd like to be obtuse and see it as a comment" statements that Spock himself was so good at because Sarek used them all the time.

Amanda set a squash casserole dish down in the middle of the table. "He can shower whenever he wants, dear," she said to Sarek. "Have a seat, you two, I'm almost done with the katterpod beans."

Spock and Sarek took their chairs. Spock chose not to reply to the pseudo-question and did not look at his father.

"How was school?" Amanda asked, bustling about while Sarek eyed him.

"Troubling," Spock said, deciding on the spur of the moment to lead the conversation in a direction that would distract his parents from his recent abnormal behavior. "There are bullies on this planet, too."

Both Sarek and Amanda paused in what they were doing. Sarek stared at Spock, his eyebrows a fraction of an inch closer together in concern.

"Are you having problems with them?" Sarek asked, his voice and betraying no tremor.

"No," said Spock. "A boy in the hovercar club was. We—myself and a few acquaintances—dealt with the bullies."

Amanda didn't like the sound of that. "What did you do to them, Spock?" she said quietly.

"There were eighteen of us," said Spock, knowing how bad this sounded. "And five of them. But they were not hurt badly."

"Spock," said Sarek, rather coldly, "you should know better than to attack humans weaker than yourself. It is against the rules and laws of this land and our land to harm other people, and it is morally repugnant to seek revenge through intimidation or treachery."

"Something had to be done," said Spock, obdurate. Dinner lay ignored. "Bullies have to be stopped. You cannot reasonably tell _me_ otherwise."

Sarek evidently did not know what to say to that. Amanda stepped in.

"Look at me," she said. There was a high string of tension in the room. Spock moved his gaze to her. She was standing next to the seated Sarek, hands on the table, leaning forwards. "You have done violence for the purpose of vengeance. That is against your way."

Spock lowered his head for the first time. The defiance went out of his face. "I know," he whispered. "I do—realize that what I have done is wrong. But I could think of no other option. They will not bother him again."

"Think on what you have done," said Amanda gently. "We understand, but do not approve. We will not punish you." She sighed and moved away from the table. "Shall we eat, now?" Sarek nodded. Amanda returned to the kitchen to fetch the katterpod beans. Spock felt the silence keenly. He had to say something to Sarek, who was staring at his glass of water, obviously unsure of how to deal with his half-human son.

"I am sorry, father," Spock said quietly.

Sarek shook his head, still riveted by the glass. "You will always be a child of two words, Spock."

Amanda sat the beans down next to the casserole. Spock noticed her hands shake slightly. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the way she looked at him the first time he saw her in the hospital after—after the incident. Her hands had shaken then, too. He never wanted to see that expression or anything like it again, and berated himself for selfishly reminding them of his old, unreasonable actions.

x

_Okay_, thought Bones. _Okay. I can do this._

It was Friday. He was aware of next to nothing but the sound of his own heavy breathing. His heartbeat was a dull thud in the background. Hands clapped his back hollowly; he felt as if the friendly slaps reverberated through his whole being. Breath. Breathing. He was focused, _focused_. He let out one final, heavy sigh.

_I'm ready_.

The coach gave them the go, and Leonard "Bones" McCoy, number 47, led the Enterprise Eagles out of the locker room and onto the football field to deafening cheers.

Kirk, meanwhile, could not _believe_ that his mother was sitting next to him at his own high school's homecoming football game.

"Can't you go sit with somebody else?" he growled, shoving her arm. She laughed and waved her gold and blue flag higher in the air. He scowled bad-temperedly, feeling like Bones. How lame was it to have your _mom_ sitting with you?

She wasn't moving. "Seriously. Please."

"Who else are you going to sit with? Your boyfriend's down on the field, and don't tell me you actually have friends." Winona stuck her tongue out at her son jokingly. "I know you and Spock hate each other for some reason."

"Okay, yes, I would not go sit with Spock, but I'll have you know that I _do_ have friends, thank you very much." He spotted Liam Ferrolin sitting with Rand, Ruth, Chapel, Sulu, Chekov, and Sylvia. "Those guys over there! I could go sit with them and you could _not follow me_."

"You're friends with them? Oh my God, is that Ruth?"

_Shit_. "No, but I did always think they were similar in appear—"

"It _is_ Ruth! Look, she's waving at me!"

"She's waving at _me_, mom, she—"

Ruth ruined everything completely by standing up and shouting across the bleachers, "HI WINONA!"

Winona, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, grabbed Kirk by the collar and dragged him over to Ruth. Kirk was _this_ close to attempting to destroy the world. He gave Ruth the most hateful glare he could come up with and she just winked at him and hugged Winona tightly. Everybody else looked bemused.

"Guys, this is my mom," muttered Kirk, staring at the ground as if it had personally offended him.

"I'm Winona!" she said cheerfully. "Nice to meet all of you!" They introduced themselves, smiling; her cheeriness was contagious. "Ooh! There's Chris!" She was looking across the stands at Pike, who was sitting with Sarek, Amanda, and Chane Uhura.

"Mom, if you go sit with them, I'll… I'll do the dishes for a week," he begged.

"I'm holding you to it," she said fake-sternly, wagging her finger in his face. He scowled at her again and she laughed and left for the company of adults.

"Sometimes I think she has ADD," sighed Kirk, sitting heavily next to Liam.

"She is very… energetic," Liam agreed delicately.

"Hey, JTK," said Ruth, from behind him. "Don't forget we have to go down to the sidelines at halftime for the court introduction." Kirk looked excited. Ruth rolled her eyes. "You love being the center of attention, don't you?"

"Maybe a little," Kirk admitted. "It validates you, you know?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"It's_ starting_!" cried Kevin Riley from a few seats back. Chekov turned to look at him and saw a disinterested John Kyle lounging nearby, idly flipping through a news magazine. Chekov knew how he felt; he had only come to the game because Sylvia had wanted to. She had asked him if he were interested in dating her, and he'd had to say that he wasn't, which had made her perpetual smile disappear for only a moment. She was trying to convince him to take her side with five-minute kisses that made him loose his breath completely (which was upsetting Sulu for some reason Chekov couldn't understand). Still, even though she was beautiful and sweet, he couldn't think of her as a girlfriend.

The Valor Warriguls had won the coin toss. Kirk was slightly alarmed by the number of Klingons on the Valor team—he'd known that ever since the Great Accord twenty years ago, Klingons had been immigrating to Earth; there had even been a few families of them in Riverside—but it surprised him to see they were interested in human sporting events. Valor High was in the Toghlahbe Heights, the Klingon neighborhood in San Francisco, and evidently they had adopted more than just an American address.

"Oh God, how tall is that one?" said Sulu, pointing to the Warrigul quarterback. "And I think it's a _she_."

"She is," said Riley grimly. "The terror of the team. She—"

He stopped talking abruptly as a Warrigul linebacker took down Bones. Kirk put his hands over his mouth, but Bones leapt back up immediately and shook his fist at the linebacker, who shook her fist right back until the referee pushed them back into the lineup. At the snap, Bones grabbed the ball and ran for it, passing to the running back twenty yards downfield, who tossed it back near the five yard line to avoid the safety bearing down on him. Bones caught it midair, throwing himself over the end zone line. The Enterprise section erupted in cheers.

"Off to a good start!" cried Rand, clapping wildly.

"God, is this only the first field goal?" sighed Kyle, massively bored.

"That was a _touchdown_," hissed Riley.

"Ah thought you were Irish," commented Scotty to Riley, walking up with Gaila on his arm.

"Only by birth," said Riley distractedly, back to staring at the field. "Everyone's American during football season."

"Says you," Chekov heard Kyle mutter.

Kirk, who was really only interested in the game because Bones was in it, watched attentively with nearly everybody else. Chekov and Kyle started talking about fifteen minutes in and became fast friends (although Kyle was a little put out when Chekov insisted that soccer was invented by the Russians).

The first quarter was relatively uneventful; it ended at 18-9 with a Valor field goal. Bones stomped off the field and doused himself thoroughly with Gatorade before blowing kisses at Kirk, who caught them energetically. The second half was more exciting; at one point, Liam and Kyle had to wrestle Riley away from the sideline, where he was verbally abusing the ref. Spock, who was sitting on the second row with Uhura, looked rather taken aback by Riley's language.

"What colorful metaphors," said Spock, raising his eyebrow.

"That's one way to put it," laughed Uhura.

Half time arrived with the game tied at 33-33. The homecoming court and their dates made their way to the field for the small parade. Kirk leapt over the railing without waiting for the coach to open the gate and threw himself at Bones, kissing him furiously.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked Bones seriously, his arms around Bones's sweaty neck.

"I'm perfectly fine," said Bones, shifting closer to Kirk, who was blessedly cool against him. "That quarterback is drivin' me mad, though. Did you see her take out that wide receiver ten minutes back? They think three of his ribs're shattered. And she's only half Klingon."

"My God. Keep away from her."

"You don't have to tell me."

Everybody lined up and paraded onto the field, waving at the Enterprise section while the Valor supporters looked on, bored. When Bones's name was called, he got the biggest cheer. Sulu, with Chapel, Liam, with a clever girl named Areel Shaw, and Gary, with Elizabeth, grinned at him, while Raj Rapali, who'd been forced to take Holliday as his date, looked murderous. Of the girls, Gaila got the most applause.

Kirk watched the duchesses and their dates. Gaila and Scotty looked incongruous together, but happy; he wondered how long ago they had arranged to go to homecoming together, since Gaila was one of the most sought-after girls in school. Ruth and Rand, Kirk noticed, were oddly similar, with their curly blonde hair done up in twists at the back. Janice Lester, a hawklike brunette, was grasping the arm of an ill-at-ease Arthur Coleman. She glared at Kirk; so far, she was the worst enemy he'd made at school, but he wasn't sure how he'd done it. She had been willing enough to sleep with him a few weeks ago; why did she hate him so much now? Miramanee Scharf, a black-haired, pink-cheeked American, escorted Salish Solari, who could have been her brother but for his everpresent scowl. When Kirk turned to the final duchess, who must have been Edith Keeler, he realized that he had never met her before. She had large, liquid eyes that could stare right through you and a pouting mouth. She was without a date.

"Edith's an interestin' one," Bones muttered in his ear. "One of her ancestors founded NASA; don't let her corner you or she'll talk your ear off about how we should be spendin' more on space exploration."

"I thought Starfleet was forty percent of the Federation's budget, and research was another ten."

"It is. She thinks it should be fifty-five, with twenty for research."

Kirk whistled. "How would we keep up the Food Program, then?"

"For the love of God, don't ask her how or she'll tell you, and the tellin'll take _years_ off your life."

"I'll take your word for it."

The court did a bit more waving and posing before they were ushered off. "I only hope I get elected as a consequence of winnin' the game," Bones said gruffly. Kirk could tell he didn't really mean it, and patted him on the shoulder. He didn't blame Bones for wanting the crown.

Up in the stands, Amanda and Winona were chatting amiably about their sons, Sarek was looking miserable without actually looking miserable, and Pike and Chane Uhura were deep in conversation about an obscure African neo-yardan author whom they both loved to read.

"Nyota is a very nice girl," said Amanda, "but I think my son likes yours better."

"You hinted as much the other day," said Winona skeptically, "but Amanda, they hate each other."

"Their personalities do not exactly mesh, I agree, but I think that is more a consequence of their upbringings rather than their mutual dislike. Spock is structured, organized, and precise. James seems—"

"—like an uncouth barbarian?"

"I would not speak so insensitively, but… yes."

Winona laughed. "I had to work to support my boys. We never spent much time together when they were kids. They never got a lot of discipline, and they inherited their father's impulsive streak. Jim's as clever as a button, but he's been arrested five times already—that I know of."

"I'm sorry you were not able to stay close to them," said Amanda kindly. "I was blessed by Sarek's choice of careers; his job paid well enough for me to resign from Starfleet as soon as I discovered I was pregnant with Spock. I was a stay-at-home mother for him. I know him almost better than he knows himself, I think."

"How wonderful for you. If there's one thing I regret, it's _not_ knowing Jim well enough. We talk about everything, but I can never tell what he's thinking, or planning, or not telling me."

"Some people are simply more mysterious than others. But Spock has surprised me before, and I have no doubt that he will do so again."

The intense part-Klingon quarterback continued to give Enterprise a hard time throughout the rest of the game, but no matter what the Valor players did, they couldn't keep back Bones—until the end. The score was 54-48 with two minutes left in the game when the Valor quarterback ran another touchdown, tying the score, and in the next play, another linebacker slammed into Bones so hard Kirk could feel the pain in his own chest.

Nobody noticed Bones stumble slightly when he stood. Masking his limp as best he could, Bones ignored every thing he had ever learned as an athlete or a medical student about playing with an injury and walked to the lineup, ignoring the new, sharp ache in the same ankle that had been fractured last weekend.

The teams worked their way up the field towards the Valor end zone. The roar from the crowd was deafening, now. Bones clenched his teeth, feeling the pain in his very nickname. Ten more yards. If he could run it up the field, past that damn linebacker….

The snap. The rough, ridged surface of the football heavy in his hands. He leaned into a sprint, every other step a heart-wrenching twinge, shoved his way through the linebacker with pure orneriness, and threw himself heavily over the line.

It was the final score. Valor didn't have time to get the ball back down the field. The announcer screamed that Enterprise High had won their homecoming game and the students poured into the field as if those words had broken a dam. Bones was absolutely swamped by spectators. He batted them away from lifting him onto their shoulders and gasped that he needed to sit, sick as the agony in his leg finally reached his mind. The people surrounding him could tell something was wrong, and escorted him to a bench. He limped obviously, now, pushing away Riley's helpful arm and falling back onto a chair like an old man. Kirk was at his side, and so was the PT, who sounded extremely pissed. Bones was doing his best not to faint—the pain had built in a crescendo since the adrenaline had left his body, and he couldn't even count the _issi_s in the fortississimo of _ouch_ that was his ankle, and then he couldn't quite hold on anymore, and fell into blackness with Kirk's arms rushing to encircle his exhausted body.

x

"Your boyfriend is very stubborn."

"Thanks."

Gray images swam before Bones's eyes, and the quiet beep and hum of machinery whispered in the background.

"He is an incredible player." The first voice was straightforward. "A natural."

"Runs in his blood." The second voice was a murmur. "You're not half bad yourself."

"Thank you. I think he is waking up. I will take my leave. It was nice to meet you, Kirk."

"You too, Torres."

Footsteps, leaving. Bones's eyes fluttered open. "Ugh," he said, tasting a horrible flavor in his mouth. "Water."

He was in a colorless hospital room, an IV running into the flat of his hand and restraint cords wrapped snug and secure around his lower legs. Over the glowing osteoregenerator set over his ankle, a TV in the background talked about a break in at a local weapon storage facility. The scent of disinfectant was heavy in his nostrils.

"Right here, Bones." A hand held a paper cup to his lips. "Your dads are on their way. I think your coach and the PT are going to kill you."

"We won, didn't we?"

"Yes, but you're in the hospital, and your ankle is going to take twelve hours to set."

Bones grinned blearily at Kirk. "I repeat, 'We won, didn't we?'"

Kirk frowned at him. "You should be taking this more seriously."

"I know, but I don't feel like it. Who was in here just now?"

"The Valor quarterback. Great girl. Don't change the subject. You know you're not supposed to play injured."

"Christ, there was a minute left and we had thirty yards to go. I'm fine. It's bein' repaired, isn't it?"

"Yes, but next time it could be worse. Bones, you know better than this. That was a very _me_ thing to do."

"Yeah, you're rubbin' off on me. It's all your fault."

Kirk was solemn. He put his hand carefully on Bones's wrist.

"You don't know how this looks," he said gently. "You're all hooked up to a machine. They've got your legs restrained so that you don't kick the regenerator off. You _collapsed_ on the field. Everybody is incredibly worried."

"Well, I'm worried too," Bones relented. Kirk looked marginally happier until Bones finished, "about whether or not I can show up for the dance. They'll let me out by six tomorrow, right?"

"_That's_ what you're worried about?"

"Well, yeah. I made a reservation for us at Seeko's. And I have to go be crowned king, don't I?"

"What makes you think you'll win?" joked Kirk, deciding not to be too mad at Bones.

"Oh hell, you were there for the end of it—"

"I'm kidding, Bones; calm down. Of course you'll win."

Bones realized he was blushing. "No I won't," he muttered, looking away from Kirk.

"Why are you so ashamed of being popular?" Kirk asked curiously.

"I'm not _ashamed_," Bones insisted. "I just—I feel like I shouldn't depend on the opinions of other people so much."

"It's impossible not to, though," said Kirk, sounding like he understood exactly what Bones wanted to say. "We just have ourselves, and the only thing we get from others is a vague idea of what they think of us, but that vague idea means everything because it's all we've got, and whenever the idea becomes really clear—whenever we get ourselves validated by a large number of people—things feel less obscure, I guess."

"Profound."

"I try. Now, let's see if you're interested in food. Sports heroes have got to keep their strength up.

x

The doctors let Bones out of the hospital at four o'clock the next day. He had to practically pry himself out of their grip; evidently he could use a few more hours under the osteoregenerator, but he really had to get ready for dinner and the dance, and his ankle was thoroughly healed. Since he was nineteen, he could refuse treatment, and since he was pre-med, he knew that his treatment wasn't particularly urgent. The reinforcement could be done at any time.

So, Bones showered and dressed himself carefully in gray slacks, polished shoes, a crisp white shirt and a tie that matched his sky-blue eyes. His coat was cobalt blue, the color of a foreboding storm. He looked dead sexy, if he did say so himself.

x

Uhura decided to spare Spock the details of arranging their dinner and made reservations for two at Pagh, a Bajoran soul-food eatery in downtown. She got to his house at seven forty-five and waited with Amanda and Sarek for Spock to descend from his room.

Amanda and Sarek were dressed in their finest; they were having a number of high-ranking Vulcans over for a late dinner after Spock left. Sarek nodded solemnly to Uhura when she entered the house, and Amanda smiled widely at her and drew her to the side.

"My dear, I just wanted to tell you that I think you've been very good for Spock," Amanda said quietly to Uhura. "I'm proud of you for convincing him to go to this dance; he refused to attend last year. But I wanted to ask you a favor. He's not—he's not exactly social. You know him well enough by now to realize that he doesn't have many friends. I was wondering if you could, perhaps, encourage him to spend time with others of his own age. He adores going to Council meetings with Sarek, but—he needs interaction with his peers."

Uhura felt guilty. She was well aware that she was keeping Spock away from potential friends so that she could spend more time with him, and thought maybe Amanda suspected this.

"Of course," murmured Uhura. "I'll make sure he talks to people tonight."

"Thank you, dear," said Amanda, squeezing Uhura's shoulder kindly. "Here he is," she added, looking up.

Spock descended the stairs hesitantly. Uhura gulped audibly. He looked incredible. He was wearing a dark gray shirt, a white tie, and black slacks. His black formal jacket was draped over his arm. He smiled shyly at her, the first public display of emotion she had witnessed from him. He thought she looked like an angel in her long white formal gown. It was simple and strapless, with an empire waist and a slit halfway up the thigh.

Sarek looked slightly disapproving of Spock's timid smile, but said nothing. He merely requested that Spock have an enjoyable fete and that he be home by two AM.

Amanda straightened Spock's collar rather tearfully. "Have a good time, dear," she said, kissing his cheek. "Don't get in too much trouble. I love you."

"I love you too, mother." He squeezed Amanda's hand, offered his arm to Uhura, and left the house without looking back.

x

"What _is_ this?" said Kirk, staring at the huge golden flower-and-ribbon contraption Bones was holding out to him. Bones turned slightly red and lowered the thing a bit.

"It's a mum," he said shortly. "Were I'm from, we make them for our homecomin' dates. You don't have to wear it; it's just a traditional thing."

Oops. "Er, sorry. I didn't mean to be culturally insensitive," said Kirk, accepting the thing. "Just out of curiosity, is it even meant to be worn? It's _gigantic_."

"It's worn in pictures," said Bones, shuffling forwards to pin the back to Kirk's lapel. "I've never made one before, so I went a little overboard on this one. Sorry. I talked to my grandmother last week and she insisted I make you one with three carnations on it, which is the traditional blessin' number—don't even ask, okay?—and it got a bit out of hand. And now I gotta get a picture of you with it so I can send it to her."

"Ah," said Kirk, looking down and realizing he was unable to see his toes. "Hurry. I might fall forwards from the weight."

"Shut up," growled Bones, but he was smiling despite his tone.

x

"You're great," said Sulu breathlessly and sincerely, "you _really_ are, but—I don't know. It's not the same."

Chapel sighed and turned away from him. "Alright. We'll stop."

She reached forward and turned off the holoprojector. They had been playing _Taramon_, a fantasy holoprogram, but Chapel had reprogrammed it to include some sci-fi elements, including an ansible and instant travel. Chapel and her mother always inserted their own creations into the holoprograms they played, but Sulu liked experiencing the work as the programmer had originally intended.

"We should get ready," commented Sulu, glancing at the time. "I'm kind of glad we didn't go out to dinner."

"Me 'oo," said Chapel, her voice muffled by the last honey chapati from their meal. "I olways 'rop food on me—oop." As if to reinforce her statement, a drop of honey rolled leisurely out of the end of the rolled-up flatbread and onto her bare leg. "_'ammit_."

Sulu handed her a napkin wordlessly.

x

Homecoming, like prom, was held off school property, at the Zetar Hotel. The ballroom was a wide, bright space, full of gold inlay and mirrors and polished beech- and balsa-wood. The psi-electronic DJ hovered over the crowd, asking for requests and interpreting thought patterns with its limited telepathy.

It had taken most of Uhura's persuasive skill to prevent Spock from arriving at the dance at nine, when it started. She tried explaining to him that punctuality was frowned upon at human social events such as these, but her protests went mostly over his head, and they got to Zetar at nine-thirty instead of Uhura's preferred ten, which was a solid compromise, she supposed. There weren't nearly enough people present, but that ended up being a good thing, since it turned out that Spock was absolutely unable to dance.

Uhura spent about an hour trying to explain and demonstrate freestyle dancing to him and eventually gave up and let herself be led around the room in an expert Viennese Waltz, the only dance he knew, laughing as she tripped over the fast steps. Of _course_ Spock would be excellent at ballroom but otherwise incapable of impromptu dance, she thought. The idea caught on, though, and many of the couples and groups present tried the step with Spock as their patient instructor. The DJ obligingly played some Strauss.

"What the hell?" said Kirk, entering the ballroom with Bones on his arm to find a hundred high schoolers box stepping and promenading with Spock acting the part of the sorcerer's apprentice near the front of the room.

"Okay, let's just leave _now_," said Bones, trying to move backwards but running into Sulu and Chapel, who were walking in behind them.

"Woah," said Sulu, putting his hands out to stop Bones. "Careful there. You don't want to run over the lights."

"Are you two _high?_" Kirk exclaimed.

"No!" said Chapel quickly. Then she frowned, pensive. "Well, a little."

Kirk snorted and then tried to look innocent when Bones glared at him.

"Come on. It's a school dance," said Bones, glaring. "If they catch you, we'll all get it."

"_You_ are one to talk," said Sulu, poking his finger at Bones's chest. "Did you or did you not light up with me on the soccer field a month ago?"

Bones looked like he was going to start yelling, so Kirk wandered away hastily. He found himself leaning against the back wall, watching Spock conduct the waltzers. Uhura was off talking to Rand, glancing back at Spock every once in a while with an indulgent smile on her face.

Bored, Kirk approached Spock. "Having fun?" he asked, coming to stand beside the half-Vulcan.

"I was," said Spock pointedly, gesturing at one couple to stop them from running into another pair.

"Don't be snippy, I haven't done anything to you yet."

"I note the 'yet' with great trepidation, James," said Spock warily.

Kirk gave him an appeasing smile. "You're safe." They were silent for a while as they watched the dancers, who were mostly managing on their own, now.

After a while, Kirk extended his arm to Spock. "Teach me?" he said, not sure what had come over him, but wanting to learn anyway. The dancers were beautiful in their smooth, clockwise flow around the room; he wanted to emulate their flow, and slip away in the stream of people.

Spock eyed him suspiciously and then gave in. "Place your left hand on my shoulder," said Spock, taking Kirk's cool right hand in his. "Elbow bent, please." He snaked his arm around Kirk's waist, pressing his hand into the small of Kirk's back. "The count is 3/4 time." He said the steps as he pressed Kirk forwards, one foot at a time. Kirk picked up the idea quickly and stopped staring at his feet to grin up at Spock, who was a half a foot taller than he was.

Spock swallowed. He didn't think he had ever been this close to Kirk. The boy had incredibly blue eyes.

The song finished and Kirk gently wrestled his hand out of Spock's grip. "That was fun," he said sincerely. "Thanks for teaching me. I've got to go show Bones how to do that." He gave Spock another brilliant smile and walked off. Spock watched him go, discomfited.

"Hey," said Uhura behind him. He turned guiltily, but she was smiling at him. "Want to dance with me?"

"Of course," he said gracefully, and took her hand.

x

Gaila and Scotty didn't arrive until eleven, when the dance was in full swing. At eleven thirty, the DJ switched off and Principal Barnett took the stage to announce the king and queen. Bones tried to hide in the back until Kirk found him and dragged him forward to stand with the rest of the court at the front of the audience.

Bones won, of course, as did Gaila. They ascended to the platform amid reverberating acclamation, Bones bashfully and Gaila brashly, and bowed for the coronation. Barnett lowered two borite crowns onto their heads and presented them to the school. Riley, in extreme fangirl mode, nearly swooned when Bones came down to shake his hand first. (Kyle punched him in the ribs.) Gaila dipped Scotty into a thorough kiss, evoking catcalls and the descent of frowning chaperones.

Sulu, who had evidently designated his house as the official after-party locale, invited just about everybody present to show up at twelve thirty for a continued celebration. Kirk dragged Bones off to obtain more alcohol and Uhura somehow managed to convince Spock to have sex with her in the backseat of her car in the parking lot (and was ridiculously proud of herself about it). Sylvia and Chekov, meanwhile, got to third base, and Sulu and Chapel, both depressed by their situation, relit their high. Scotty and Gaila disappeared to parts unknown and showed up at Sulu's in different clothes and with mussed hair.

At Sulu's house, Kirk gave Bones a congratulatory blow job in the bathroom (it was by no means the worst place he had performed fellatio). Chekov nearly walked in on them. Spock and Uhura considered the alcohol Sulu had spread all over his dining room table and decided against it.

"I must return home by two AM," said Spock, gazing almost sadly at a lone bottle of icewine. "It would be unintelligent of me to consume alcohol at this time."

"If you won't, neither will I," said Uhura loyally. "Come on, let's find Christine." She knew that Chapel was good at talking to Spock, since she'd had a crush on him for the majority of the previous year and could carry on long conversations with him. Christine, while strangely fascinated by Spock's right ear, nevertheless managed to hold her own with him about the relative merits of subspace radio technology and psionic transmission. Uhura didn't think Spock realized she was high, which was hilarious in and of itself, since he kept getting these faintly puzzled expressions whenever she would say something particularly non sequitur.

Gaila, about to toss back a shot of tequila, frowned and reached for her thigh. Uhura watched as she removed a vibrating PADD.

"What is it?" said Uhura, as Gaila's face twisted when she read the screen.

"My local news alert. Two fire stations near here are on fire," Gaila said. "KRON says—ow! Jim, get off."

"Oh, sorry," said Kirk, hurriedly backing away. He'd fallen hugely over somebody's foot and straight into Gaila. "I tripped, sorry."

"Are you drunk already?" said Uhura disapprovingly.

"No!" protested Kirk. "I haven't even had a beer yet! You are so prejudiced."

"I am not, I simply—"

"Wait," said Kirk, looking suddenly alert. "What about fire stations?"

"Two nearby, six and fourteen, they're on fire," said Gaila, handing Kirk the PADD. "Ironic, huh? Fire stations on fire. They think it's arson, of course; how else could two be up in flames at the same time? No luck is that bad."

Kirk stared at the PADD for a second, then wrestled his communicator out of his pocket and called his mother while Gaila and Uhura stared at him.

"James Tiberius Kirk, it is _one_ in the morning—"

"Mom, are you at home?"

"Of course I am, I—"

"Please just trust me, here—go see if the house is on fire."

"_What?_"

"Do it, mom."

"The fire alarms aren't going off—" There was the sound of shuffling feet, and doors opening and closing. "I'm outside. No smoke, no fire. What's this about?"

"I'll tell you later—keep an eye out, okay?"

"Okay—"

Kirk ended the call and dialed Pike, whose number he had in case of a hoverclub emergency.

"James? What is this about?"

"Mr. Pike, I'm sorry to call so late, but—are you at home?"

"No, why?"

"Does anyone besides you live in your house?"

"James, explain—"

"Please, just answer the question, sir."

"Well, alright—I live alone."

"Okay, good. Um, it's possible that your house is on fire. You should check that out."

"_What_?"

"I have to go, sir, I'll explain later."

Kirk ended that call, too. Who else, who else? Oh yes—Spock.

Spock was still talking to Christine. Kirk grabbed his shoulder and turned him around unceremoniously.

"Call your father," he said, expression completely serious.

"Excuse me?" said Spock, staring at Kirk coldly.

"_Do_ it," snapped Kirk, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"If I may inquire as to why—"

"On the day of my birth, the main fire station on Calder II was set on fire," said Kirk, talking faster than usual. "A day before, the Starfleet armory on the planet had been emptied. Two similar events have once more occurred. I suspect Nero. You need to contact your parents and make sure they are safe."

Spock immediately flipped open his communicator. "Spock to Sarek. Spock to Sarek."

There was no reply.

Uhura saw Spock's hand tremble as he closed the lid. "Father always answers."

"Try your mother."

Spock did. There was nothing but static on the line.

"It's a diversion," whispered Kirk, an expression of horror slowly creeping across his face. "The fire at the stations."

"We have to go check on them," said Sulu, who had been listening to the conversation. "Come on. Get in my pickup. We'll check everything out."

x


	20. Chapter 20: For the World is Hollow

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Twenty: For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky_

x

Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!

—James 3:5

There is no pain greater than this; not the cut of a jagged-edged dagger nor the fire of a dragon's breath. Nothing burns in your heart like the emptiness of losing something, someone…

—Robert Salvatore

x

Seventeen years ago

_Richard Robau rubbed his forehead tiredly. He was nearly done with his paperwork, but an undoubtedly tedious meeting with the science department awaited him in an hour. For a brief moment, he regretted ever accepting command of a Starfleet vessel, but when he looked out of his window and into the hangar where the _Kelvin_ was moored, took in its clean, sweeping lines, and imagined commanding from the captain's chair in battle, he shook his head at his folly. He could not imagine doing anything but commanding. Robau was made for Starfleet; his spirit was forged in the shipyard and tempered in space. Paperwork was merely an unpleasant detour from the important business of captaining a space ship._

_A knock sounded at his door. Robau motioned it open and a nervous ensign tiptoed in, staring at him with wide eyes. "Captain, sir, Base Commander Lin would like to see you, sir," the ensign squeaked._

_Happy to leave his paperwork, Robau followed the ensign out of his temporary rooms and down a few corridors to Lin's office. The Starfleet base on Calder II was hewn into a cliffside that overlooked a wide lake. Behind the cliffs, a long valley stretched into a broad, thousand-mile plain. The cliffs and the lake were some of the only significant geological features on the planet; its tectonic processes had been dormant for some time, by virtue of its calm and shapely magnetic field. Ten miles from the base, the Romulans had set up a colonial settlement at the edge of the Plains in an attempt to claim the planet. Calder II did not have significant resources other than its rich soil and young, strong sun, but it was a border planet, and both the Empire and the Federation were interested in making it their own._

_It was also fantastically positioned along one of the main space trade routes between the Laurentian System and the Solar System. Starfleet had opened a mechanics shop and a small shore leave station in the cliffs to service the merchant vessels that came through. The _Kelvin_ was currently making use of the mechanics shop. It had recently been in a skirmish with a rather vicious superintelligent species, had received severe damages to its warp drive and other important systems, and had limped in to harbor on impulse engines a few days ago for full repairs._

_Commander Chelsea Lin was talking hurriedly with a squat, grease-covered Andorian, and motioned apologetically for Robau to wait. The Andorian fished a PADD out of his pocket, handed it to her, bowed wordlessly to Robau, and left._

"_I'm sorry about that, Richard," said Lin, moving behind her desk to set the PADD down. She was a thin Philippine woman with a flat nose and calculating eyes. "Have a seat. We've had a very bad break in at our armory. All of the SAMs are missing, and most of the plasma cannons, and of those, the rest have been disabled." She consulted the PADD on her desk. "A total of forty-seven weapons have gone missing. We're quite sure it was Romulan work, but we can't prove it, and we can't accuse them without proof, since the Romulans are letting their armada wander around right now and it's passing close to here, so they might choose to come teach us a lesson."_

"_I appreciate the gravity of your situation, Chelsea," said Robau carefully, "but—and not to be rude—what does this have to do with me?"_

_Lin smiled wryly. "Currently, the only functional heavy weaponry on Calder II is in the _Kelvin_," she said. "If there is any kind of Romulan incursion, we'll have to use your ship to defend the base." She sighed. "You can't tell anybody this, but we just got a shipment of settlers."_

"_What?" said Robau sharply. "The Federation is going to try to colonize Calder as well?"_

"_Yes. They're very concerned about the border planets. They were supposed to send us more heavy weaponry before the settlers arrived, but there was a bureaucratic mix-up, and now we've got five thousand men, women, and children to defend _without_ any defenses but the natural protection of this cliff." Lin paced behind her desk, her sharp shoulders jutting harshly from her back. Her entire frame was tense and worried._

"_Five_ thousand?_" exclaimed Robau. _But that's insane, _he thought_. The Federation can't just toss settlers at a planet and expect them to thrive. There are only ninety crew at this outpost, not nearly enough to protect five thousand men, women, and children from truculent Romulans.

"_Yes. Don't get me started. I'm going to need you to take your crew off of shore leave. If the Romulans decide to attack because they've intercepted a transmission and know about the settlers, or just because they're belligerent damn Romulans, the _Kelvin_ must be ready to defend the base."_

"_Absolutely. I will let my crew know. But remember, the _Kelvin_ is mainly a research vessel. We have powerful phasers, but we're no _Yorktown_."_

"_You can deal with SAMs and plasma cannons, though, right?"_

"_Yes, easily, but if the Romulan armada hanging around decides to intervene…"_

"_We'll just have to hope they won't. I've sent a message to Starfleet, and they're sending the _Yokohama _and the _Jakarta_, but they won't be here for two days."_

"_Wonderful. Warp speed and we still can't get places in a reasonable amount of time."_

"_You're telling me."_

_A secretary came to the door. "Lieutenant Commander Rokal to see you, Commander Lin."_

"_Send him in. Stay, Richard? He's in charge of security here."_

"_You mean, of Romulan espionage?"_

"_In so many words."_

_Rokal was a tall, lean fellow with leaf-green hair and a clever smile. "Captain," he said, saluting Robau. "Commander Lin. There's something strange going on. You know how the Romulans have been digging up the yew orchard, near the Hill? I think they've found something. There was an explosion there last night, and now it's swarming with scientists we didn't even know they had."_

"_An explosion? Were any killed?"_

"_We're not sure. The spy-bird has a hard time seeing at night anyway, and the glare from the explosion blew out its optical circuits out for a while. We're also not sure what exactly it is that the Romulans found." He paused. "You are aware of the legends surrounding this planet, are you not?"_

"_I am, but he isn't," said Lin, nodding to Robau. "Fill him in. I asked him to man the _Kelvin_ in case of an emergency; he should know everything we do."_

"_Very well." Rokal took a breath and settled into storytelling mode. "For as long as there has been space travel, there have been whispers about the Calder system's decalithium potential."_

"_Decalithium—the stuff they can theoretically create red matter from?" said Robau, eyes narrowed. "That's extremely hard to locate, and even more difficult to mine?"_

"_Precisely. It is said that the ancient Calderians were able to successfully manufacture red matter—we have never been able to—and tame their planet's unstable gravitational field by careful application of the final product. The Calderians disappeared a long time ago, as did all of the large mammalian life on this planet, in a cross-species plague, but they were said to have left behind a machine capable of converting decalithium-four isotopes into red matter. This story is merely speculation, but all the same, I would not rule out the possibility that the machine does exist, and the Romulans have found it."_

_Robau wasted no time in recalling his crew from shore leave. He felt particularly bad about reactivating two of his senior officers: Christopher Pike was trying to deal with his wife's abandonment and Julie Eleen's betrayal, and George Kirk's wife Winona Lawrence was incredibly pregnant (Robau thought she looked like she was at ten months; the woman was literally about to pop). Pike _looked_ fine—he was a solid man, not prone to unsteadiness or distraction, but Robau knew his officers, and he knew that Pike was still broken up inside. A single week could not have healed him._

_Robau felt better back on the _Kelvin_. He would have preferred a more battle-ready cruiser as his first command, but the _Kelvin_ was a good ship, small and fast and with firepower too impressive to scoff at, even if it wasn't up to battleship standard. Robau knew that he and the crew of the _Kelvin_ were doing good work. Most of the crew—seven hundred of the nine hundred on board—were science division, and were spread throughout the _Kelvin's_ cramped labs, working on the secrets of the universe. _

_Once Robau reached the bridge, the chief engineer read out the ship's status. Repair crews were still swarming over the engines and damaged exterior plates. The warp drives were inoperative, decks 6, 7, and 9 were unusable because the hull had been breached in a few places, their shields were at half power, and the autopilot had been completely disabled. A pilot could not even lock onto a target; the _Kelvin_ had to be manually steered wherever it went. Robau fervently hoped that the Romulans would act later, or (ideally) not at all; if they attacked now, when the _Kelvin_ was held together by string and prayers, he didn't know how much he could do before the ship was reduced to space garbage._

_Robau would never find out just how stubborn his ship was._

_The next day, no more word had come concerning suspicious Romulan activities. Robau and his entire crew had remained on the _Kelvin_, which was still in the hangar, helping with repairs and continuing research and doing all of the necessary starship maintenance and upkeep. They had also been constantly scanning the Romulan dig site miles away, but their weakened instruments could not penetrate the tightly packed metamorphic rock between their location and the supposed machine, and they could obtain no useable data. By midafternoon, deck 6 and half of deck 9 were usable again, and major progress was being made on the warp drive, but nothing else had changed. In the late afternoon, Commander Lin reported that the fire station at the lakeshore had caught on fire. Suspicious, Robau ordered a local weapons scan but found no trace of nearby hostiles._

_Instead, the Romulans attacked that night. In the middle of calm and silence, the science officer shouted that explosives were coming in low, aiming for the base's generator, and the bridge crew burst into action. The communications officer contacted Lin and Starfleet rapidly. Kirk, helmsman and first officer, ordered battle stations and red alert._

"_Take her out of the hangar," Robau snapped at the pilot. "Fly low, full shields. Phaser banks, target the SAMs; they're doing more damage than the plasma cannons." The cliff face that held the base was crumbling under constant missile fire. _

_Lin checked in, her voice almost obscured by the crashings and rumblings in the background. "We've got seventy of our men out," she yelled over the noise of the fortress falling. "Only twenty more to go. The packages are out of the cliff." That was their code for the settlers, whom the base personnel had successfully moved to an underground bunker a few miles away. "We've contacted a passing Vulcan vessel, but they won't arrive for a few more hours, and it's a diplomatic craft. Keep covering our backs, and good luck, Richard."_

"_To you also, Chelsea," said Robau before closing the link. The _Kelvin_ rose magnificently above the cliffs, an impressive sight in the bright moonlight despite its pockmarked hull and blackened nacelles. Hundreds of Romulans were gathered in the middle of the valley down below, dashing between hastily-erected weapons. The dig site, machine updug, was a mile from the weaponry. The _Kelvin_'s phasers fired on the distinctively-shaped SAMs, ignoring the other Romulan armaments. The _Kelvin_ moved forward to fully engage, impulse engines puttering threateningly._

"_Captain," said the science officer quickly, a tinge of panic in her voice. "Three harpoons, shielded, aiming right at us."_

"_Evasive!" screamed Robau, but it was too late. The harpoons, illegal and expensive heavy gauge artillery with massive power, exploded towards the _Kelvin _and impacted solidly_. _The whole ship rocked, the hull once more breached in multiple places. Pike, loading torpedoes in the weapons deck, was struck squarely by a piece of flying paneling that pinned him to a far wall like an insect. _

"_Shields at zero," said Kirk dully, staring at his readouts. There was a disquieting calm; the Romulan bombardment had ceased. Reports from around the ship flowed in. Casualties were massive. Four phaser banks were out and five decks were destroyed. And then the communications officer said, "Sir, we're receiving a transmission from the Romulans."_

_The bridge went silent. Robau sat up straighter in his chair. "On screen," he said coolly._

_The image flickered, then steadied. Two Romulans, a man and a woman, both heavily tattooed and dressed in formal leathers, stared off of the screen at Robau. The bridge crew glared at them hatefully. The Romulans seemed to draw themselves up, taking on self-satisfied expressions as they noticed the resentment and antipathy in their opponents' demeanors._

"_Captain," said the woman lightly, a cruel smile playing around her thin lips. "My name is Aemilia, and this is my husband Naeus. We are the governors of this Romulan colony. We require your presence at our residence. If you refuse to come to us, we will fire on your ship with all of our available weapons."_

_The science officer's eyes widened painfully as the Romulan finished speaking. Wordlessly, she sent the data she had just received to Robau's personal screen, which he glanced over at. The Romulans had just removed cloaking devices from five more harpoons and were aiming them at the _Kelvin_._

"_I will come to you," said Robau steadily. "Hold your fire."_

"_We expect no foul play," Naeus warned, his voice more solid and cold than Aemilia's. "We do not react well to surprises." With that, the Romulans canceled the link._

_Robau rubbed his forehead once more, this time in frustration. "Walk with me," he said to Kirk, pushing himself off of the captain's chair and stalking off of the bridge, trying not to think that this could be the last time he ever saw it. "If you discover that that machine is what we think it is, do your best to destroy it. I should tell you, there are settlers huddling in an underground bunker near the lakeshore along with the rest of the base crew. More than the ninety base crew lives are at risk. The settlers are five thousand strong. You need to make sure they are safe."_

"_When you get back—" Kirk started to say, but Robau cut him off with a gesture. They were walking through devastated areas of the ship, ducking under fallen wires and stepping around fallen debris. The medical staff were hard at work tending to the injured. Robau's heart was cold at the thought of the dead, and he was silent as he passed cloth-covered bodies. They both saw Pike, being tended to by the CMO herself, but could not stop to inquire about his status. They reached the shuttle bay and Robau turned to Kirk at the elevator doors._

"_You're captain now, Mr. Kirk," was all he said._

_The doors closed. Kirk paused for a moment, utterly still. He felt the heaviness of responsibility settle on him like a mantle. Trying not to think about Winona, or Pike, he returned to the bridge to take the conn._

x

Sulu drove at breakneck speed up and down the thin, hilly residential roads. Spock rode shotgun, paler than usual and utterly silent. Kirk, Bones, and Chekov had stuffed themselves into the backseat of the van. Kirk was on his PADD, reading news reports and trying to think of a way to prove definitively that Nero was behind this.

Spock had tried to insist that nobody need accompany him, but Kirk had just ignored him and gone to Sulu's van, and Bones had followed Kirk with a you-know-I've-got-to-follow-him shrug in Spock's direction. Chekov thought he might be able to help and was also trying to escape Sylvia, who had gotten a little too drunk. None of them had had any alcohol yet, but Sulu was still high, although he seemed to have shrugged the worst of it off.

A slight orange glow became evident in the night sky as they approached the house. Spock sat up straighter, and Kirk turned off his PADD. Sulu glanced carefully over at Spock as he barreled around a corner. Spock's hands were trembling, but his face was still.

They turned onto Spock's street. Chekov gasped involuntarily. The house at the end of the cul-de-sac was in flames that licked high into the stars.

Sulu had barely stopped the van in front of the house before Spock was out of the car, throwing himself at a dead run towards the front door. Kirk called 911, speaking quickly to an emergency dispatcher. An older Vulcan woman stumbled out of the open front door, coughing heavily, and Bones ran to her, dragging her away from the house with Chekov's help. Spock was long gone inside the house.

Kirk steeled himself to dash inside, but Bones caught him before he could make a run for the front door. "You can't go in there," Bones hissed, clutching Kirk's arm tightly. "It's much too dangerous. The smoke—"

Two more Vulcans emerged from the house, one old man and one younger man, the younger man supporting the old one, who was coughing heavily. Bones turned to tend to them, giving one Kirk one last warning look. Chekov went to help Bones, and Kirk focused on Sulu, who cocked his head questioningly at Kirk. Kirk nodded. Sulu nodded too, a suddenly decisive look on his sharp face. Without hesitation, they took off for the house.

Kirk ignored Bones's frantic yells behind him. He took a deep breath before crossing the threshold of the house, feeling Sulu's footsteps pounding the ground behind him. Entering the house felt like passing through a warm curtain; inside, the heat beat at him. He paused a few feet into the house, unsure of where to go.

"We need wet cloths, to keep the smoke out of our lungs," Sulu said, passing Kirk. "The kitchen's this way." Sulu had been to Spock's house a few times before. They jogged through the living room and into the kitchen. This part of the house was safe; no fire was visible, although they could hear the sharp crackle of burning wood and building materiel from other rooms.

Sulu whipped open a drawer and withdrew two large dish towels. He ran them under the sink, flinching at the burn of the hot metal handle—the ambient heat alone was affecting the part of the house not on fire—wrung them out, and handed one to Kirk. They wrapped the wet cloths around their heads like bandanas and tied them tightly at the backs of their heads. Kirk pointed into the other room, at the stairs, asking Sulu with his eyes if that was the correct direction to go. Sulu didn't know much about the house, but he did know that the formal sitting room was upstairs, and that was where everyone would be—he had heard Spock talking about the gathering earlier in the night.

Sulu took a moment to be thankful that he had successfully thrown off his high. He could still feel the effects of the marijuana lingering in his brain, the warmth of the drug continuing to exert a slight, pleasant pressure on his lungs. But since he had to give himself over to the drug, which generally didn't affect him unless he let it, he was able to snap out his high. He pushed back a spike of searing guilt at the thought that, with less willpower or a more potent dose, he might not have been able to function, and resolved not to smoke for the next month. Plus, he wasn't too fond of fire at the moment.

The south and west sides of the house were relatively clear of fire, making the area they were in comparatively safe, although the ceiling was starting to dip redly in some places, and the further they got into the house, the more pieces of it were flaking off entirely. The heat was incredible, even away from the main fire; they both felt tempted to continue naked, since the warmth seemed to trap itself in their clothes. But their clothing was their first defense against fire; if it started to burn, it could be shucked of like skin could not.

As they moved towards the stairs, Kirk glanced down a hallway into a long room that looked like an open living area. He could see in the decorative mirrors at either end of the room that the opposite walls were on fire, but not the middle of the room. His stomach twisted; that was clear proof of arson, because fires didn't leisurely gobble up one wall and then sneak around to the opposite one without going through the center.

Kirk and Sulu climbed the stairs carefully. The heat was increasing exponentially. Kirk felt as if his bones were fusing slowly into one mass; the heat made his very joints ache and he could no longer even feel his sweat. The landing at the top was a largish hallway, and the wall at the top of the stairs was in flames. Large parts of the ceiling overhead were on the floor. The hallway stretched on either side of them. Sulu motioned Kirk to the right and they walked a few feet straight through a flame-shrouded doorway.

Kirk entered first, saw immediately that this was not the right room (it was a large, elegant bedroom, nothing like a sitting room), and tried to back out, but Sulu had entered behind him, and before they could return to the entrance, half of the room's ceiling fell in with a massive groan.

Kirk shrieked as a foot-thick chunk of siding struck his chest, knocking him down and burning straight through his shirt to sizzle his flesh. He moved quickly, flexing like a cat, and tipped the siding off of him and onto the floor. Sulu had been peppered with smaller pieces of debris and was still standing, but his shirtsleeve was thoroughly on fire. He dropped and rolled hurriedly, flinching as the flame covering his arm turned upwards to eat at his flesh in its need for oxygen. When it was out, Kirk helped him to his feet, grimacing as he bent over his burned torso. They left the bedroom at a run, without looking back, though Sulu put a cool hand over his crisping skin.

Outside, they retied their wet bandanas and moved down the hall, into the heart of the fire. The floor creaked horribly as they tiptoed across it, and pieces of the sky were visible through the flames above them. They could feel the house shudder around them. Sulu shuddered too, afraid of dying here without rescuing anyone and being just another casualty listed on a form somewhere. Kirk was afraid of nothing and pulled Sulu on.

As they came to the end of the long hallway, they heard a shriek. Sulu, who had moved ahead of Kirk because he was lighter and less likely to damage the floor, hurried towards the door, but pulled up short abruptly, his shoes scrabbling on the creaking hardwood. He had seen the floor sloping sharply downwards, into a five-foot hole that revealed another fiery room beneath.

"Watch out!" shouted Kirk, but Sulu had already stopped himself and was backing away.

"Spock!" called Sulu across the gap. "Are you in there?"

"Yes," came a faint reply through the crackle of burning wood. "There are seven of us, and the hole in the floor—we cannot get out! This room has no windows, and I cannot go through the walls; the ones around us are load-bearing—"

"We'll get you out," Kirk yelled to him. "Hikaru, help me—" He ran back a little ways down the hallway, dodging a piece of rafter beam that fell heavily in his path.

"What are we doing?" Sulu called, trailing after him.

"To get something big enough to go cross that gap," Kirk replied. "A door—but I don't see any that aren't damaged—shit!" His foot had sunk through the smoldering floor and he fell heavily, ankle catching on exposed, burning planking. Sulu skipped around the sunken spot and heaved him up.

"Not a great weekend for ankles," Sulu commented lightly, but Kirk could see the fear in his eyes.

The upstairs floor plan consisted of one large hallway shaped like a U, with the stairway leading off from the base. The fire had been started at the back corners of the house, at the tips of the U, and had spread mainly at the back and around the right side. The sitting room was located in the northeast corner of the house, the part that was burning the worst. Kirk and Sulu had been in the right hallway, and the left one that they now entered was more intact. Kirk pointed to a sturdy bedroom door and Sulu immediately started attacking the top hinges while Kirk got the bottom ones.

They got the door down and carried it back to the room, hugging the edges of the walls to avoid sinking through the floor. More of the roof was falling in, and the centers of the floors drooped into the flame eating them from below. They placed the door carefully over the gap. Kirk saw Spock's head peek around the corner of the doorframe and watch as Sulu gingerly crossed the horizontal door to check its ability to hold weight.

"It's ready!" Kirk shouted when Sulu had come back across.

Five Vulcans, including Sarek, who was helping one of them, stumbled across, choking on the thick smoke. They all had cloths covering their mouths, but looked the worse for wear—two of them were badly burned, and since they had nothing to douse their cloths in, the smoke had gotten into their lungs anyway. Spock, supporting Amanda, who had severe burns on her left arm and side, came out last. Amanda clutched her son, eyes heavily lidded, clearly in a great deal of pain. Spock's expression was like nothing Kirk had ever seen—he was all intensity and concern and determination.

Sulu was motioning everybody down the hallway towards the stairs when there was a huge, horrible noise and a wall further down the corridor collapsed, taking twenty feet of floor with it as it fell.

Sulu lurched backwards, colliding with everybody behind him. The floor crumpled around his toes. Sarek, directly behind Sulu, grabbed the boy back from the edge of the hole and dragged him into a room a few feet back down the hall, another bedroom. The other Vulcans, Kirk, Spock, and Amanda followed him hurriedly inside. There was no leaving in that direction.

This bedroom had a sturdier floor than the hallway or the old room the Vulcans had been trapped in, but the roof was beginning to sag. Spock and Sulu moved everyone to the edges of the room, away from the lowest part of the ceiling. The flames covered only one wall, and while the smoke was just as thick, the atmosphere was not as dangerous. Everybody seemed to relax slightly; they had found a safe haven.

"Good, a window," said Kirk briskly, crossing to it and wrenching it open. He looked down on bare ground fifteen feet away. "We'll jump if we have to, but I'd rather not." He flipped open his communicator. "Bones? Pavel? Jim here, come in—"

"Pavel here," said Chekov's voice over the communicator.

"You don't happen to see a ladder, do you? We're on the right side of the house, second story, and we're trapped—"

"I have seen one in the garage earlier!" cried Chekov.

"Grab it for me, will you?" said Kirk, leaning out the window and staring towards the front of the house.

"I can do zat!" Kirk could picture Chekov running off to grab it. The thought made him chuckle.

"I fail to see what amuses you, James," Spock snapped directly behind Kirk. Kirk jumped; he hadn't realized that Spock was so close to him.

"'Life does not cease to be funny when people are hurt any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh,'" Kirk quoted, watching at Spock. "There is nothing we can do for the moment but wait for Chekov to bring the ladder around. Why not laugh?"

Spock looked like he wanted to pace out his frustration, but also spare the delicate floor the angry pressure of his feet. He returned to his mother, who smiled slightly at him (thinking what a wonderful pair the two would make someday), and coughed heavily.

Spock put his arm comfortingly around her. "We will be out soon, mother," he said gently. She kept coughing, but turned her head to rest it against his chest, closing her eyes. He felt a surge of fondness for her, and concern. When he had leapt over the hole in the floor (which had been smaller then) after a mad dash through the house, into the sitting room, the first thing he had seen was Amanda's burned arm, and the first thing he had felt was a protective dragon roaring in his chest. Sarek, tending to another burn victim, watched them; for a second, a smile teased the corners of his lips, but he suppressed it and shifted his attention to his charge.

Kirk and Sulu were staring at the ceiling, which was hanging lower than ever in the room. Flaming bits of it were dripping off. They were going to have to risk jumping out of the window if Chekov didn't show up with the ladder soon.

As if he were responding to their brain waves, Chekov rounded the corner at a run, carrying an absurdly large ladder on his back. It was a wide, incredibly practical work ladder, extendable to thirty feet and made out of reinforced lightweight titanium. Chekov set it up directly under the window, punching the lock button on its computer so that the ladder's legs shot anchors a foot into the ground, steadying the contraption. Chekov climbed up it quickly; there was just enough room for two people to pass each other on the ladder, and he was needed to help the injured out of the window.

Carefully, Sarek and Sulu helped the two other burn victims onto the ladder while Kirk watched the ceiling like a hawk, chivvying people away from the lowest parts. The room emptied quickly until only Kirk, Spock, Amanda, and Sarek remained. Spock and Amanda were about to leave when Amanda tripped over a chair and fell heavily. Sarek impatiently motioned for Kirk to go ahead, following Sulu, who was already halfway down the ladder. Kirk hesitated, but Amanda stood with Spock's help and they started towards the window, so Kirk ducked his head and climbed down, nodding gratefully to Chekov as he passed him on the ladder.

Sarek followed Kirk, and Spock swung his feet out of the window to settle them on the hard ladder. Spock didn't like going first and leaving his mother in the room, but since he was trying to get her onto the ladder, Chekov couldn't help him, and he had to have room for both of them. She reached forwards to take his hand, her eyes sparkling as she took a short breath of fresh air from the open window.

It had held for so long, but the pressure had become too much for its thin beams. With an earth-shattering moan, the roof collapsed.

Spock lunged, his hand closing around her wrist, but it was too late. The room's entire ceiling dropped, and he forced back his instinct, moving forwards to try and grab her, but her hand was ripped away from his fingers as the heavy ceiling struck her and fell towards the floor. In the last moment, he saw her eyes widen in shock, and her mouth form a word, but before she could finish it, she was gone. There was another horrible noise as the bulk of the ceiling crashed through the floor and the whole mass landed with a heavy thud on the first story.

She was gone.

Chekov's hand yanked Spock backwards roughly, with more strength than Spock had imagined Chekov had. Spock lowered his outstretched arm, turning his head and raising one arm to shield himself from the sparking debris, feeling Chekov (who had climbed beside him to tug him down) also hiding his face. They descended the ladder together, quickly and smoothly, Chekov trembling like a leaf next him. Spock felt his feet hit the ground. He turned to his father, who was seeing to one of the elder Vulcans, coughing smoke.

Spock realized that Sarek had not seen what had happened. Kirk and Sulu were watching Spock, wide-eyed, and Chekov was taking down the ladder slowly, eyes fixed on the side of Spock's mask of a face.

_I have to tell him_, thought Spock numbly, staring at his father's back. I _have to _tell_ him._

"Your health will be restored momentarily," said Sarek comfortingly to the injured Vulcan. He turned, eyes roving over Spock. "Amanda? Where—"

And he paused, his face suddenly going still when he looked up and saw the hole in the roof.

"The ceiling," said Spock, in a stronger voice than he knew he had. "The ceiling gave way. I could do nothing."

Sarek stared at him, completely blank. Spock knew his own expression was identical.

"I see," Sarek said quietly, and turned back to the other Vulcan.

Spock stood there for a moment. He saw Kirk and Sulu's expressions go from concerned to angry and figured distantly that he should do something about it. He went to help Bones tend to the other survivors, figuring that Kirk and Sulu would not ambush his father on their own.

"An ambulance is on its way," Bones told Spock distractedly, his hand behind a Vulcan body to check the woman's heart rate. "Everyone get out?"

"No," said Spock shortly, staring at the woman. She was T'Ridu, a friend of his mother's. She was young—Amanda's age—and she was also badly burned. She had accompanied her father Sedun to the gathering. Sedun lay unmoving on the front lawn; he had died of smoke inhalation.

Bones looked like he was about to ask who hadn't made it, but the faint sound of ambulance sirens reached their ears. Bones looked up eagerly. Of the ten Vulcans there tonight, only one had died so far, although everyone who had been in the house needed heavy doses of oxygen, and badly. The ambulance arrived, lights flashing: paramedics tumbled out and dashed around applying portable oxygen masks to everyone's face. Spock held onto his tightly, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply in, and out, and in, and out, loosing himself in the steady rhythm of his breath.

x

_Robau was dead, his diplomatic mission failed (Naeus and Aemilia had lost their temper and killed him in cold blood) and the Romulan bombardment of the _Kelvin_ had restarted. Above the restricting metamorphic rock, the science officer had finally been able to accurately scan the dig site and state with certainty that the machine the Romulans had uncovered was a maker of red matter. It was synthesizing decalithium currently. It had to be destroyed before it was too late._

_But there was a problem. The harpoons had knocked out the _Kelvin's _weapons—_all_ of them. There was nothing Kirk could do to dismantle the machine._

_No, that wasn't true. There was something. The warp drives—even when nonoperational—packed a potent punch._

_He had ordered a full evac minutes ago, and watched on the main screen as tens of escape pods burst out of their grooves and disappeared as fast as they could into the Calderian atmosphere. Winona, with her usual good timing, had gone into labor at the beginning of the attack, and he was trying not to think about the only option he had left, but he_ had_ to think about it, because it was what he was about to do. The escape pods had so far used their meager weapons to great effect against the SAMs (the Romulans were saving the harpoons for the _Kelvin_), but that wouldn't last—he knew the Romulans would start really trying to shoot them down soon, unless he did something drastic._

_He ran a quick reading on the lifeforms on board the _Kelvin_. A few of the very badly injured remained, bleeding their last on lonely decks. There was nothing he could do for them except end their pain quickly._

_He spoke into the communicator—asked her about the child. "A boy," she said, "a beautiful boy—Tiberius, for your father?"_

_Even now, he laughed (life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh), and insisted on James, her father's name. He closed his eyes as the baby—James Tiberius—gurgled and wailed, imagining what the son he would never see looked like. His hands had already found the helm controls. He was steering, maneuvering downwards despite the tears pouring like waterfalls from his eyes, aiming for the dig site, over which antlike Romulans scurried._

"_I love you both," he called into the communicator, watching as the ground and the dig site approached at incredible speed, "I love y—"_

_Fire consumed him._

_The baby shrieked at the harsh, screaming noise that came out of the communicator open on his mother's palm. Winona sobbed into James Tiberius's thin, pale scattering of hair._

_On the planet, a crater and debris was all that remained of the Romulans, the machine, and the _Kelvin_. Smoke uncurled from the aftermath, drifting into the air lazily, twisting into pretty patterns and shapes. Fires burned unchecked on the planet's surface, eating the bodies of the Romulans and licking at the scraps of ship metal that littered the field._

_A few hours later, a Vulcan man took a Romulan baby into his arms and promised to bring him home._

x

"Spock," whispered Kirk, touching Spock's shoulder.

Spock looked up at Kirk with glassy eyes. Kirk tried to convey in one expression all of the sympathy and grief and compassion he had, and might have succeeded, because Spock allowed Kirk's hand to remain on his shoulder, and after a while, covered it with his own.

x


	21. Chapter 21: Errand of Mercy

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Twenty-One: Errand of Mercy_

x

Bones knew something was wrong when he realized that Kirk wasn't flirting with the nurse who was applying salve to the burn on his chest. The woman was about twenty, blonde, ample-chested, dewy-eyed, and basically massaging lotion onto his pecs, and he _wasn't_ flirting with her. Bones had a mental image of porcine figures winging their way over the Golden Gate Bridge.

"Is he okay?" Bones asked the nurse worriedly, hurrying up to the two of them. Kirk was perched on the edge of a doctor's table in a long, partitioned room filled with patients afflicted by non-severe injuries. Bones had been recruited by one of the paramedics (Beverly, in fact) to help with T'Ridu's burns and had just gotten to the hospital.

She gave him an incredulous look. "It's just a first degree," she said. "He's fine. He doesn't even need any pain meds. Why?"

Bones didn't know quite how to say, "Because he's not trying to motorboat your hooters," without sounding disrespectful, so he chose not to answer the question. Instead, he put his hand on Kirk's bare shoulder. "What is it?" Bones asked him. The nurse finished rubbing in the salve and moved off to tend to other patients.

"You don't know?" said Kirk, looking at him with hollow eyes. "Amanda died."

"Jesus Christ," Bones said, stepping back. "What? She _did_?"

"Yeah." Kirk looked haunted. "The ceiling fell in. She was the last one out."

"Shit," whispered Bones. "How's Spock?"

"Well, actually, he seems fine right now—he's with, uh, Vokos, I think his name is? The other Vulcan with burns. Sarek kind of pissed me off; he didn't look sad at all, and he didn't go comfort Spock." Kirk swallowed. "Spock had to tell him. Sarek hadn't seen."

"Shit," Bones repeated, running a trembling hand through his hair. "Can you imagine? God. Aren't you glad you don't have him as a father?"

Kirk gave him a look, and Bones realized what he had said.

"Jim—"

Kirk shook his head. "It's okay, Bones."

"I'm sorry—"

"It's fine."

Sulu and Chekov chose that moment to enter the room. Sulu was sporting a big white bandage on his arm and Chekov was watching him closely, as if he suspected Sulu were about to break.

"Hey," said Sulu shortly to Kirk and Bones. He heaved himself up onto Kirk's table. "How are you, Jim?"

"Good," said Kirk. "Just got a first degree burn. You?"

"Same. Stings a little." Sulu smiled flatly at him. "Listen, man, I'm sorry I've been so mean to you lately—" His eyes flicked to Chekov and back. "—but, as it turns out, you're a great guy." He held out his hand. "Friends?"

Kirk took it. "Absolutely," he said seriously. "You were damn brave, back there."

Sulu snorted. "As if," he said, stretching his arm. "I was convinced the house was gonna collapse at any second. I probably pissed my pants, but the heat was so intense the evidence evaporated."

Kirk laughed. He needed to laugh. Sulu leaned on him slightly, the thin warmth of his uninjured arm kind against Kirk's cold, bare back. They looked each other and smiled without smiling. If you run through a burning house with somebody, you can't help but come out knowing them a bit better.

There was a commotion at the entrance to the long ward and Spock strode through the door purposefully, closely followed by two angry-looking nurses. He was clearly trying to ignore them, but could not manage to do so for long; midway through the room, the shorter nurse, a stocky brown-haired man, swept in front of him and stood in his path. Spock looked down his nose at him.

"Move," he said, enunciating the word in much the same manner as Alan Rickman, rolling the sounds around his lips and pushing them into the air with scarily deliberate slowness.

"No," said the nurse shortly. "If you don't let us look at that burn, I'm going to have to get the restraints."

Spock glared at the man for a full minute, his nostrils flaring, before turning on his heel and stalking over to the bed beside Kirk and Sulu. He sat stiffly on it and bored a hole in the wall in front of him.

Kirk, Bones, Sulu, and Chekov, as one, leaned around the screen to stare at Spock. The sight would have been comical if Spock had a sense of humor at the moment.

"Jacket off," said the male nurse, snapping on latex gloves with no small amount of menace. The other nurse, a tall brunette, brought the male nurse a tube of the same stuff they had treated Kirk and Sulu's burns with.

Spock did not move.

"Jacket _off_," the male nurse repeated.

Kirk frowned at the jacket. Spock hadn't been wearing it earlier, he thought—or had he? It didn't look like it was his; it was stiff and formal and did not match his other clothing.

Spock said something very quietly.

Frowning, the male nurse leaned forward. "What?"

"I cannot remove it," snapped Spock, pinching his ear in frustration. "I would have to—to shift my shoulder blades in a direction that would do much more harm than good."

The male nurse's eyes widened. He snatched a pair of scissors from a drawer and delicately cut the jacket off, slicing the coat down the center seam. His eyes widened when he saw what lay underneath.

"Second or third degree," he snapped to the female nurse. "Get me the dermal regenerator and an MD; I'm not qualified for this. Lay down," he added to Spock. "You're going to have severe scarring from this! You should have gotten it treated _immediately_."

Spock did not reply. He was busy trying to lower himself onto his stomach without bending his back. The nurses, realizing his predicament, helped him, their hands kind despite the disapproval on their faces.

Kirk and the others finally saw the severity of the burn. The entire left side of Spock's back was a deep, shining viridian. The flesh visible was charred dermis, the second layer of skin, glistening and weeping. His individual ribs showed pale white through his thin flesh, and a third of the way down his back, the pulse of his heart was clearly visible.

The nurse plunged a hypospray into Spock's neck. Spock did not show any sign of being in pain. He removed his glasses and pressed his face into the table, allowing the nurses to work. A doctor rushed over, blinking at the severity of the injury and ordering the nurses to fetch various medicines and machines.

Kirk felt sick. When had Spock gotten the burn? Why had he not mentioned it to anybody? Was it just because he was unable to show it to anyone? He saw Chekov staring at the floor, and Sulu focusing on the doctor, rather than what the doctor was working on. Bones, of course, looked mesmerized.

Spock closed his eyes as the doctor ran the warm dermal regenerator over his back. His reason for keeping silent about the injury was simple: he wanted the pain of it to last as long as possible. He deserved it.

x

Uhura's communicator beeped and she swiped it immediately off of the table. It had been an hour and a half since Spock and the others had left and she was extremely worried.

"Hello?" she said.

"Nyota? It's Hikaru."

"Oh, _finally_. What—?"

"There was a fire," said Sulu quickly, cutting her off. "We're at the hospital."

"The _hospital_? Is everyone okay?" _Is Spock okay?_ was her unspoken question.

"Uh, no, actually. Nyota—" Nausea. _What was he going to say? God, what if Spock was hurt, or _dead_… I didn't know what I would do_. "—it's Amanda. She's dead."

A quick wave of relief swept through her, followed shortly by shame, then a terrible sadness. "Oh, God."

"The ceiling fell in. Two others died. Spock's not exactly okay; he has a pretty bad burn on his back. He'll be fine, physically, but—you should really come up here."

"Okay—okay, yes, absolutely. Of course." Uhura stood, staring around blindly for her purse and keys. "I'll be right there."

"Get Scotty to take you. And hey, tell Christine I love her, okay?"

"Okay," said Uhura, not really listening. "See you."

Uhura found her purse and grabbed the back of Scotty's shirt, dragging him rudely away from Gaila. "Wha—?" he protested until he saw her expression. "What happened?" he asked instead.

"Amanda died," said Uhura thickly, trying not to burst into tears. She bit her lip.

Chapel's communicator went off and she picked it up. It was Sulu again, asking Chapel very nicely if she would have mercy on him: did she mind roping the partiers at his house into cleaning it up a bit and then getting out, since his parents were coming home from visiting his sister Miko in Seattle because the hospital had notified them that their insurance was being used. Uhura remembered what he'd said at the end of their conversation and mentioned that to Chapel, who agreed that she could manage everybody and smiled a little at Sulu's declaration of love. Gaila started the process by physically removing everybody who was too drunk to be productive. She was very persuasive.

Scotty and Uhura drove to the hospital.

"This is weird," Uhura muttered thickly. She wasn't actively crying, but there were salty tears running down her face, and she'd destroyed a couple of Kleenexes. "She shouldn't be dead. She was just talking to me, hours ago."

Scotty quoted a passage from one of their favorite books. "'She had a silly impulse t' add, But she was alive an hour ago! And she stopped herself, because death is like that: people _are_ alive until they die.' Everyone feels like tha', Nyota."

"'People _are_ alive until they die…' I can't imagine being alive when I die. What must it be like? Do you know what's coming?"

"I dunno, lass. Best not dwell on it. Ah never do; your mind gets t' hurtin' if you stare so hard at somethin' you cannae see."

By the time Uhura and Scotty reached the long ward, Spock's doctors had finished with him and set a large dermal regenerator over his back to run for a couple of hours. Kirk was fast asleep, curled up in Bones's lap, and Chekov was supporting a very tired Sulu, who would have liked to go to sleep, but was too busy dreading his parents' arrival.

"_Spock_," whispered Uhura, walking over to him. He was lying on his stomach, the dermal regenerator humming softly over him, facing away from her. Hesitantly, she brushed his flat hair with the tips of her fingers. His hands clenched on the bed and she walked around to see his face.

He looked up at her. She wasn't sure what she saw in his eyes, but it scared her.

She knelt down in front of him, bringing her head level to his. She kissed him lightly on the forehead and twined her fingers around his.

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly.

He swallowed, and nodded stiffly. The stiffness came from how little he had been moving, not from any (more) reservation (than usual) on his account.

"Thank you for coming to see me," he said slowly. "I do not feel—quite—_correct_, right now. I am not… fine."

"I know," she said. "It's empty, isn't it? That's how I felt when my mother died."

Spock hadn't known that her mother was dead. He squeezed her hand.

"They're going to transfer me to a room, soon," he said. "James and Hikaru are coming with me. They're not discharging any of us until the morning, since they're worried about the affects of smoke inhalation." He paused. "You don't have to stay."

"Of course I'm staying," she said gently. "Leo and I will keep you company." She hadn't asked Bones if he was staying, but judging by the expression on his face as he looked down at Kirk, drooling on his lap, he might never leave Kirk's side again.

Chekov nudged Sulu. "Hikaru?" he said apologetically. "I am wery sorry, but I must go soon."

Hikaru struggled to sit up. "What? Why?"

"My parents expected me home at one thirty," said Chekov. "I have missed exactly forty-six calls from them."

"But—you've been here for like, an hour, with me—why haven't you called them back?"

Chekov blinked at him. "You needed me," he said simply. "I could not _go_."

Sulu didn't know what to say to that, so he hugged Chekov tightly. Chekov hugged him back, burying his face in Sulu's neck.

"I was afraid you would not come out," he said, his voice muffled. "I am glad you did." He kissed Sulu on the cheek and Sulu was forcibly reminded of last weekend, after the hovercar race, when Chekov had done the same thing. "I must go," Chekov said. He hugged Sulu again. "I will come see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes," breathed Sulu. "Please do."

Chekov smiled at him and left.

The nurses moved Kirk, Spock, and Sulu into a large, private room with plenty of space for Bones and Uhura to spread out. Kirk wasn't badly injured, so Bones climbed into bed with him, figuring the nurses wouldn't mind. Uhura couldn't fit on Spock's bed—the dermal regenerator was too large, so she fell asleep in a chair she pulled up next to him, her face leaning next to his. They each breathed the other's air.

x

Chapel and Chekov hugged each other tightly. They had just finished cleaning Sulu's house and were about to leave when they heard a car in the drive. Everyone else had left fifteen minutes ago, having finished with the cleanup, but Chapel had noticed a stain on one of the couches and Chekov had stayed to help her with it. (He had come back to Sulu's for his keys and wallet, having called his parents and gotten an extension on his curfew with an explaination of the situation.) Eventually they just flipped the cushion over; neither of them were geniuses at getting out stains. Chapel had been hard-pressed just to know how to use Chlorox wipes on the counters and Chekov couldn't even pronounce "Chlorox_._"

They heard the door open, and footsteps. A tall Japanese woman stuck her head around the frame and saw Chapel and Chekov standing awkwardly next to the kitchen counter. Her eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply. She was clearly not Sulu's mother; she was much too young.

"Hikaru invited us over, earlier," Chapel said, standing up straighter and sticking out her lip stubbornly. "You can ask him. We were about to leave. He just called us from the hospital to let us know what was going on."

"You're friends of his?" She surveyed them critically. "Well. You _must_ be Pavel," she said to Chekov. "And you're—Christine?"

Chekov and Chapel stared at her.

"I'm his sister, Miko. Nice to meet you. You did a good job cleaning up. I take it he had a wild party after homecoming?"

No reply. Miko smiled at them—it might have been a smile. The expression was rather feral.

"I taught him that. Me and Inoue used to trash the house when the 'rents were out of town. You don't have to jump like mice, you know. I'm not going to bite you. That's mom and dad, and they're over at the hospital, probably yelling at Ru for being heroic. I dropped by to get him a change of clothes and the necessities. You _are_ Pavel and Christine, right?"

"Y-yeah, I'm Christine," Chapel managed. Miko was like a whirlwind. She was brisk, self-assured, and incredibly beautiful. "And this is Pavel."

"I have heard _so_ much about you," Miko said to Pavel, giving him another alarming smile. She set her gigantic purse down on the kitchen island and pulled up a stool. "How old are you, though, like twelve?"

"I am sixteen," said Pavel indignantly, sweeping his curls out of his eyes.

"Uh-huh," said Miko skeptically. "Hikaru's nineteen. Keep that in mind." Her eyes focused on something to Chapel's right, on the counter, almost hidden behind a flour canister. "Wow," she said, getting up and crossing over to it. She picked it up carefully. "Is this a dime bag?" She opened up the baggie and sniffed it carefully. It had a small quantity of white powder in it, barely a fourth of a gram. "This is a dime bag. Huh. Is it either of yours?"

Chekov and Chapel both looked confused. "What is it?" Chapel asked. "It's not mine."

"It's cocaine," said Miko, staring at the substance. Chekov's jaw dropped. "I didn't know Hikaru was into the hard stuff. Radical." She retied the bag and put it in her pocket. "You two aren't druggies, then?"

Chapel pulled herself up. "I've never taken an illegal substance in my life," she said tightly.

"Don't get all high and mighty on me. And definitely don't dis until you've tried it. Still, cocaine—kind of intense. Don't worry about it, you two. I'll deal with him." The smile was back. Chekov felt like hiding. "I've got to get those clothes and head up to the hospital. Thanks for cleaning up in here. The place looks great. You two must be good friends." She waved them towards the entrance. "I'll see you later. Nice to meet you. Bye."

Outside, Chapel took a few steps towards her car and stopped. She turned to Chekov. "Did you know about that?" she said sharply, referring to the cocaine.

Chekov shook his head energetically. "I did not," he said. "Do you think it is his?"

"Well, I don't know. It makes sense that it is, but there were all kinds of people there tonight. He does do a lot of pot, and everybody knows it's a gateway drug…" She trailed off. "I just—it seems a little uncharacteristic."

"It does," Chekov agreed. "If it was not his, zen whose was it?"

Chapel shrugged. "Inquiring minds _really_ want to know." She paused, her hands in her pockets. "Miko was kind of scary, wasn't she?"

"Kind of—dear Lord," said Chekov faintly. "Her eyeliner looked like it wanted to eat me."

Chapel laughed. "Hikaru had mentioned that she was a bit… sharp, but I had no idea." She glanced at her PADD. "I really should go home." She waved to Chekov as she got in her car. "I'll see you Monday."

"You too," Chekov called back. He set off to find his bike, happy that he didn't live very far away. He was not worried about Sulu. Chekov knew that the drug wasn't his. How, he wasn't sure, but Sulu simply did not, as Chapel had said, seem like the type.

x

The male nurse from before came into the room, looking puzzled. Sulu had just woken up because his PADD had buzzed (a text from Inoue, making sure he was okay) and saw the man standing framed in the doorway. Sulu's eyes adjusted, and when he could see the nurse's expression properly, he realized that his parents were here.

"Hikaru Sulu?" the nurse whispered to him, crossing to his bed. "Your guardians are outside—I think they want to talk to you." He sounded hesitant. Sulu wondered what they had said to the nurse.

He heaved himself out of bed. His brain was beating a sophisticated yet raucous symphony on the interior of his cranium, his arm felt like death itself, and his lungs were still burning from the smoke. He really didn't feel like dealing with them right now.

"What time is it?" he groaned to the nurse.

"You don't want to know," said the nurse wisely.

"Crappy shift," Sulu commented sympathetically.

"Lost a bet. I'm generally here weekdays only. Need any help?"

"Got it. Thanks, though."

The nurse led him outside, and sure enough, there were good ol' mom and dad. They didn't look much like Hikaru—he was taller than either of them, and they both had silvering hair. Their features were different, too: where Hikaru had thick eyebrows and a wide forehead, their faces were small and rather pinched, less open than his.

"Hikaru, we heard that you purposefully entered a burning building," Mr. Sulu began right off. He didn't even wait for the nurse to walk away (the nurse did so quickly, shooting Hikaru a "good luck, man" look). "You have always been impulsive and rash, but we did not expect your actions to become—_suicidal_."

"We are starting you in counseling on Monday," Ms. Sulu said briskly. "Now, we also heard that you burned your arm. How irresponsible! I suppose the _wonderful_ Medicare program took care of it." She and Mr. Sulu exchanged black glances. "How the Federation expects to minister to every scummer and drug addict who come crawling into their flea-ridden _public _hospitals is beyond me… You should have insisted on being taken to Barrow, rather than—_here_." Barrow Wellness Center was a private hospital staffed by the best and stuffiest doctors money could buy. Hikaru hated the place. "Galactic peace is _one_ thing, but galactic healthcare is another entirely."

Mr. Sulu started up again. "Hikaru, if you continue to pull stunts like this, people will not want to hire you as a pilot. And if you are still insisting that you would like to enter _Starfleet_" (He said the name like a curse word.) "as a pilot, then keep in mind that they do not look kindly on reckless actions. In fact, both your mother and I would go so far as to say that this indicates that you would make a terrible pilot. Being impetuous is not a positive trait for—"

"Why would _either_ of you have any idea if I'm a good pilot or not?" Hikaru interrupted poisonously. "For your information, I'm _amazing_. You know I'm _teaching_ classes at the airport, right? You stuck your noses into my life long enough to notice that I was making my own money and buying my own food, right? I'm sure that's _all_ you noticed, though."

"We were aware of your—_job_," snapped Ms. Sulu. "Not that we think it is appropriate for a mere _eighteen_ year-old to be teaching people how to fly. You realize that what you say or don't say could get somebody killed, don't you?"

Hikaru was quiet for a moment, staring at them, nostrils flared in anger.

"You just came so that you could say to your friends you checked up on me, didn't you? You don't actually care how I am."

"Miko told us we had no choice but to come with her," Mr. Sulu said coldly. They had been visiting her in Seattle. "We took the first flight down. It was unnecessarily expensive."

"Fine," snarled Hikaru, beyond furious. He stalked back to the door to his room, then stopped, whirling around. "Do you even know what the seventh was?" he said, referring to last Wednesday's date. His parents were clearly confused. "Of course not," he spat. "I'm nineteen, now. It was my birthday."

They didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. Disgusted, he went back into the room.

Miko showed up a half an hour later. Hikaru hadn't gone back to sleep yet; he was still raging internally. She beckoned him into the hallway after assuring him that they were gone.

"They went back to the house," she said. "Guess they figured they did their duty." She hugged him tightly. "I'm glad you're okay," she said sincerely. "You're my favorite brother, you know that? I would have had to go beat that fire up if it had killed you, and it probably would have hurt me, and we can't have that, can we?"

He smiled at her, feeling much better. "I'm your only brother, dummy. And no fire could hurt you."

"Psh. You've never seen me around a stove. Scars, Ru, _scars_. Remind me to show you my lower back some time. Acrobatic sex in the kitchen, _a la Lust, Caution_? Not a good idea, however awesome Ang Lee is."

"Wow, I seriously did not need to know that."

"Sorry. Occasionally I over-share. I heard you saved some lives, to restore the subject. My little hero!"

"I—I helped get people out, yeah." Sulu paused. He had wanted to talk to somebody about this for a while. "My friend Spock—it was his house that burned down. His mom died, and so did two other people, so the rescue—it wasn't a complete success." Hikaru swallowed. "I actually watched her die, Ko. She was trying to climb through a window and the ceiling fell in on her. Right in front of Spock."

"My God," said Miko, hugging Hikaru close again. "You poor boy. _That_ poor boy. He's the Vulcan with the dermal regenerator over his back, isn't he? With the beautiful black girl curled up next to him?"

"Yeah," Hikaru nodded. He felt like a little of the weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He thought of Inoue, suddenly, who had texted him earlier. "Inoue said she was leaving early with Sh'ragh, just to come see me," he said. "That's so like her. Did you tell her about the fire?"

"I did. I knew mom and dad wouldn't. She was going to come straight here, but I convinced her not to—she really has to finish up the semester before she and Sh'ragh come back for the wedding."

Hikaru smiled. "I can't say I'm used to the idea of her getting married, much less to a _Klingon_, but she always was the wild one, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, actually, can I ask you about that?" Miko got a serious look on her face as she fished around in her purse for something. She held up the cocaine. "Is this yours?"

"What is—oh, wow. No, it's not. Why did you think it was mine?"

"It was on the kitchen counter at home," Miko said, watching Hikaru's face closely. "I dropped by to grab you some clothes." She passed him a bag, which he took distractedly. "Nobody you know does coke?"

"Well, yeah, I know some people, but I seriously doubt they were at the party. They're not really homecoming types, you know? Also, should you have that out at a hospital?"

Miko shrugged and put the baggie back in her pocket. "It's oh my god in the morning and the nurses around here have probably seen worse," she said carelessly. "You're sure it's not yours?"

"Positive," said Hikaru fervently. "I'm not insane."

"And you don't know who is? Because if you do, you should talk to him or her."

If he were honest with himself, Hikaru knew who it was, but he was in no position to do anything about it at the moment. "I don't know who it could be," he said firmly. "But I'll keep an eye out." He yawned. "Mind if I try to sleep?"

"Go ahead. I'm going to go back to the house, too. Call me when you wake up, okay? I'll pick you up."

They hugged. "Thanks for coming," he said.

"Anytime, little bro," said Miko. "Missed ya." She twinged his nose and left.

He had an easy time falling asleep after that, and thankfully, he didn't dream.

x

Early in the morning, Sarek came to see Spock.

It was seven AM. The nurses had taken the dermal regenerator off about thirty minutes ago so that he could walk around and stretch some. It would need to be left on for another few hours. As soon as Kirk and Sulu woke up, they could be discharged, but they were both heavily asleep on their beds. Kirk and Bones were wrapped entirely around each other in a way that made Spock's heart hurt when he saw them. Uhura was asleep, too. He wanted to stroke her hair, but he did not wish to wake her. There were deep circles under her eyes. Even in her sleep, she looked worried.

Sarek stood in the doorway, a still apparition in the nurses' energetic wake. Spock stood stiffly and walked over to him, wrapping a paper robe around himself—he was wearing only his pants from last night; his shirt had been half-burned off of him and the jacket, of course, had been destroyed. His pants were singed, but they smelled like home, even though smoke curled from them—an apt scent metaphor, if such things existed. He couldn't possibly trade them for more sanitary paper leggings.

Sarek had found new clothes somewhere. "T'Zura brought them," he said, holding a package out to Spock. There were clothes for him, too; light cotton pants and a loose shirt. Spock placed them on the chair next to the door.

"How are Vokos and T'Ridu?" Spock asked.

"They are recovering successfully," said Sarek. They had moved into the hallway and were standing against the wall near the door, out of the way of the continuous stream of traffic. "T'Ridu will be discharged in a few days. She has not yet been informed of her father's death. She is still under heavy sedation. Issika will tell her, when it is time." Issika was T'Ridu's mother. "Vokos will be discharged tonight or tomorrow. The doctors are not interested in accuracy." Sarek sniffed, and Spock could tell what he thought about human doctors and their imprecise, bloody caretaking. Spock liked human doctors more than Vulcan ones, since the worst times of his life had been spent in a Vulcan hospital. He preferred the cool but personal hands of human doctors, not the uncomfortably hot and detached touches of Vulcan physicians.

"The house is gone," said Sarek.

Spock fixed his eyes at a point slightly past Sarek's shoulder.

"There was no body to recover. Ashes were collected after a DNA sample," Sarek said.

There was an urn, somewhere, filled with black char, filled with _her_. It seemed so wrong.

"It was arson," Sarek said.

Spock had been trying to keep that thought out of his head. "Really." _Of course it was_. He had seen the same thing Kirk had—two fires spreading from two different directions.

"Yes," Sarek said. "The fire was set at the back corners of our house. The investigators are not sure who set it, why, and how, but it _was_ set."

Spock did not say anything. He was not sure he could. He wanted to go scream somewhere, or better yet, rip someone into very small, very bloody pieces.

"I have already been discharged," Sarek said.

Spock felt a moment of irrational anger towards his father. Sarek _said_, Sarek _said_. Sarek did not _scream_, or _yell_, or _sob_, like Spock wanted to. Did Sarek even want to do those things? What was he thinking? Did he give a damn about his dead wife?

"When you are discharged, we will go to T'Pau's residence," Sarek said. "She has readied two rooms for us. We are to live with her until our house is rebuilt."

Spock nodded shortly. He had expected that.

Sarek's communicator beeped. He said a short goodbye to Spock and moved down the hallway to take the call.

Spock marched back into the room. Uhura was still asleep, halfway on his bed. He stood feet away from the bed, staring at her, thoughts whipping around his head like a whirlwind. Who did she think she was, to stride in and tell him he knew how he felt? And Kirk and Bones—he glared them. They were entangled in each other disgustingly. Didn't they have any regard for decency? He couldn't think of anything to hate Sulu for, so, quite illogically, he hated him simply for that.

He sat heavily on his bed, not caring if he woke Uhura. She shifted and yawned, sitting up, her hand scrabbling around on the bed until it found his. She turned to him sleepily, a lazy smile on her face. He glared at her.

She blinked, clearly taken aback. Then, her face softened, and she rubbed his hand. He immediately felt bad, not to mention inappropriately aroused because of the nearly obscene contact. She evidently understood him completely and was already willing to forgive his bad mood.

But—he didn't feel anything _emotionally_ when she touched him. He felt, more than he ever had, scorn for her blind, illogical interest in him, her slavering devotion. For a second, he did not know why he was with her in the first place.

_No!_ He pulled away from her. His emotions were going all over the place. He couldn't—_shouldn't_—do anything drastic in such a state. She looked confused, and he just shook his head at her. She shrugged, stroked his hand again (he shuddered involuntarily), and curled back up to go to sleep.

He watched her, but something slight had _shifted_ in the past few minutes. He did not want to brush his fingertips over her hair. He did not want to kiss her and touch her and curl up next to her. He wanted to run very far away from her and hide behind something so that he would never have to look at the way she looked at him again.

x

Winona accidentally woke everybody up when she came to get Kirk later that morning. She had always been klutzy, and she had passed some of that on to Kirk, but she had kept quite a lot for herself. She tripped immaculately over a taped-down electrical cord near the entrance and brought a case of hyposprays down with her. She was uninjured, but Spock's sensitive ears were ringing for minutes afterwards.

All five of them sat up hurriedly, quite awake. Kirk leapt out of bed to help her up, but Winona was already on her feet, brushing herself off busily and acting like nothing had happened. Bones tried to hide a snort of laughter but couldn't quite manage. She shot him a slit-eyed glare. Uhura and Sulu made faces at each other until their giggles had passed. Spock, of course, did not understand what was so funny.

"I'm here for Jim," said Winona stiffly. "You guys can go back to sleep now." And then she caught sight of Spock and walked straight over to him and hugged him, very tightly, without seeming to move at all. It was as if she were in the center of the room at one moment and suffocating him the next. He made a slightly deflated noise and tried to extract himself from her freakishly strong grip, but she took that as an attempt to hug her back and hugged him even harder, and Sulu was dying of asphyxiation from _not laughing not laughing._

Finally, Winona backed off, and everybody was relieved to see that Spock merely looked discomfited, not pissed, and had actually understood what she was trying to tell him with her physical gesture. For a split second, when he saw how (comparatively) mild Spock's expression was, Kirk thought he might like Spock just a little, but it passed as soon as Bones's hand touched his thigh.

"Mind if I get a ride home with you?" Bones asked gruffly. His hair was sticking up like thatch. "Dad picked my car up from Hikaru's and was goin' to come get me, but I think I'd rather not interrupt his Saturday off."

"I'd love to drive you," said Winona, smiling brilliantly. "Hikaru? Nyota? Do you need rides?"

Sulu shook his head. "My sister Miko's on her way," he said, holding up his PADD.

Spock and Uhura were conferring. Their conversation has gone like this:

"Nyota, my father has informed me that I will be staying at the residence of T'Pau, a Vulcan currently living on this planet. We will be leaving the hospital after the dermal regenerator has finished its course. There is no need for you to stay with me."

Uhura frowned. "I'd like to stay, Spock," she said.

"But I would be more comfortable if you were to return to your home." He played an unfair card. "You are tired, Nyota. You should sleep."

"Spock, I can't _leave_ you—"

_I wish you would_. "You can. You must. Thank you for staying the night. I will call you later today."

She relented. "Okay, fine. I love you, Spock." She kissed him, hesitating when he did not kiss her back.

"Goodbye, Nyota."

He did not know how cold his eyes were.

x

_Awkwaaard_, hummed Kirk to himself. He was in the passenger seat of his mom's car with Bones and Uhura in the back, and he was pretty sure Uhura was upset.

Winona was on the communicator with Sam. Kirk glanced in the rear view mirror. Uhura was biting her lip and staring blindly out of the window. _Oh, crap_, thought Kirk sympathetically. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She was utterly silent, and Bones, who was only observant when he wanted to be, had no idea what was going down in the seat next to him.

Kirk whipped out his PADD. He was a man of action.

_Dear Nyota:_ he texted, _I have noticed that you are unhappy. Would you like to go to my house and Talk About It (whatever It is)? I can be cogently adviceful (though not grammatically accurate), and possibly even nice. All fun aside, though, are you okay?_

Uhura jumped when her PADD buzzed. She stared at it while Kirk watched her in the rear view mirror. She looked straight at him when she was done reading and nodded tearily.

Winona was taking Bones home first anyway, so it was a simple matter of asking Winona not to drop by Uhura's. Kirk had never really spent alone time with Uhura before, but they'd talked a little in class and he was definitely interested in her looks (the girl could _work it_). Still, this was not the time for play-flirting. He escorted her inside, silently, under Winona's suspicious eye (he texted Bones to explain what was going on so that if Winona went all ageswap _Atonement_ on his ass and misrepresented the situation to his boyfriend at a later date, there would be no tragic consequences), and took her straight to his room.

She collapsed onto his shoulder, sobbing. He was less taken aback than he expected to be. He'd dealt with crying people before (generally overemotional boyfriends—true fact, boys were _more_ crazy than girls in relationships) and had never quite known what to do with them. But with Uhura, physical comforting felt natural. He pulled her to him, just holding her. After a while, he maneuvered them awkwardly to his bed and fetched a Kleenex for her. She blew her nose noisily.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed. Her voice was at his ear, warm and wet. He shoved down his feelings of arousal—_Spock's girlfriend_, not_ cool_ (it didn't really occur to him to use Bones as a reason not do anything with her)_—_and rubbed her back. She shivered a little more and detached herself, falling heavily onto his bed.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting beside her carefully. He could feel the give in the springs of his mattress, and the thought warmed him, as it always did, that there was someone else in his bed.

"I d-don't know," she muttered, dabbing at her eyes. "Spock was j-just weird, when I was leaving—did you s-see him? He looked s-so angry, and I—" She hiccupped a little. "God, I'm such an idiot. His _mom_ just died. I c-can't possibly hold him responsible for any of this. And nothing has happened, I'm j-just crazy, there's nothing to even hold him responsible _for_." For a moment, she looked like the old, kickass Uhura, flaming angry and irritated. But then she dissolved straight back into tears.

**[apologies for the gibberish. evidently this cannot be fixed.]**

\﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽I can be emotionally crousal— warm and wet. own what do wo with them, but s were morv

Kirk was starting to get freaked out. God, was she asking relationship advice from _him_? About _Spock_? Who he _hated_?

"Um," he said. "So, he isn't generally… weird?"

"Yes, Jim, he's always weird," she snapped, but her sarcasm had no real heat behind it. She sighed. "He's really very sweet. And damn good in bed, despite being very much a virgin."

_Wow_, thought Kirk. _I am officially in over my head_. "That's… interesting?"

"He's half Vulcan. It makes sense. They are _so_ focused on learning. You know, I don't think he loves me."

_What? Really?_ "Why do you say that?" Kirk was oddly curious.

"Well, he hasn't said he loves me. And I've said I loved him."

Kirk saw a pretty obvious flaw, here. "Haven't you two only been dating for two months?" he said hesitantly.

She looked like she wanted to glare at him but couldn't quite manage. "Yeah," she said. "I know, I'm _so_ dumb, but—I do love him. I mean, _look_ at him. I don't see how you can _not_ love him. He knows everything, but not anything useful—anything _really_ useful, to social relationships, I mean. He's so adorably ignorant about that stuff. And he's just so _competent_ with everything else, like his equations could sweep you off your feet, and his essays could carry you away. Have you read his writing? It seems dry, at first, and then you get into the rhythm of it, and you see what he's _doing_, and he just wraps you around his pinky and calmly gets you to agree with every single point he makes. Strunk and White would faint with joy, reading him." She paused. "Jim?"

Kirk realized that he had been staring off into space, imaging Spock writing equations in the sky. He blinked at her. "Sorry. I haven't read his writing." He smiled. "But I know what you mean about the rest of it." Wow, did he. How had he never noticed those things about Spock before? Uhura was completely right. It was incredible, really, how Spock always seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and manage to look so—how did Uhura describe it?—_competent_. He would go so far as to call it sexy, actually. _That_ was a strange thought: Spock, sexy? Okay, the man was attractive as all get out, sure, but he wasn't exactly Kirk's type, and oh, right, Uhura was here, and he should be talking to her.

She was looking at him strangely. "Do you like Spock?" she asked.

Kirk frowned. "No," he said slowly. "But… maybe?"

She wasn't angry. "He has that affect on you," she said. "I didn't see it at all, for ages. Christine was completely in love with him last year, and I was like, 'Seriously? _Spock_? Do you know who you're talking about?' And then after a while, it hits you—he's pretty great."

"I still don't see why you've fallen in _love_ with him, though. So fast—you loved him before you started dating, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. There's not much I can do to _help_ it—we don't choose to fall in love. Or, we don't entirely choose to fall in love. We put ourselves in the situation, sometimes, but our body chemistry has to do some of the work. I don't really care about why I love him. I just know I love him. And I know that he doesn't love me back, and I have to do something about that, but I don't know what."

Kirk was at a loss for words, so he just scooted closer and plucked another Kleenex out of the box for her. _Poor girl_, he thought. _How much would it suck to be in love with Spock?_

x


	22. Chapter 22: Where No Man Has Gone Before

**A/N:** I got a lot of negative reviews for this chapter. Yup.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Twenty-Two: Where No Man Has Gone Before_

x

Spock was thinking about Amanda.

She used to make him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, back on Vulcan, and even though he got teased about them, he was fiercely proud of those sandwiches. One day, Stonn stole a whole half of one of those sandwiches and ate it and discovered it was actually very good. None of the other kids had believed Stonn when he said how tasty the sandwich was, even though Vulcans didn't lie, and Stonn had gotten really angry, but he had never beaten up Spock again, and the bullying slacked off a quite a bit as a consequence.

When he and Sarek got karsh, a mild, flu-like sickness only Vulcans could catch, Amanda propped them on the downstairs couch and brought them bowl upon bowl of plomeek soup. That week of sniffles and fever and nausea was somehow one of the best of Spock's life. He talked to his father more than he usually did, and Amanda was sweetly determined to take care of her family with large quantities of comfort food, movies, and board games. They stayed up late together, watching old Pixar films and eating ice cream.

When I-Chaya, right after they moved to Earth, was hit by a car, Amanda went into lieutenant commander mode. Spock had frozen in absolute shock when he saw I-Chaya crumpled on the street, bleeding copiously. Amanda had not hesitated. She'd gathered the mangled _sehlat_ in her arms, placed him gently in their car, and drove like a madwoman to the nearest vet's office, where she had breathed threateningly down everybody's neck until they got an exobiology specialist over from the San Francisco Zoo to help with surgery. I-Chaya was fine after two weeks of recovery, nine boxes of dog bones, and Amanda wouldn't say how much money—not that it mattered.

Spock should have been making conversation with Lady T'Pau instead of thinking about his mother, but he simply couldn't. Instead, Sarek was doing most of the talking. As such, he shot Spock lots of subtly unhappy glances for not participating in the discussion. Spock was not being rude—he was responding to all of T'Pau's queries and keeping to the topics, as was expected of Vulcan children in conversation with their elders, but he was clearly distracted.

Finally, T'Pau let Spock excuse himself. Spock fled upstairs. T'Pau had always sort of reminded him of a character out of a very old human novel, a Lady Catherine de Bourgh, except that T'Pau wasn't nearly as evil, but she did have the same haughtily intimidating manner and preposterously opulent lodgings. Spock remembered telling his mother about this thought, just a few days ago, and remembered how much she'd laughed.

Spock pinched his ears and decided to meditate. He unrolled a _sh'horun _carpet propped against the wall, lit a jasmine candle and placed it carefully in front of the carpet, and settled, cross-legged, onto the floor. He stared at the candle, counting his breathing and focusing on the give and take of his lungs (like he had back at the house), and imagined that he was giving up pieces of his conscious mind to the flame. After a time, he had stripped all fragments of himself away and was nothing but a kernel of steady, luminous thought, resting in the ether, breathing in and breathing out and nothing more.

After an hour or so, there was a knock at his door. Spock had closed his inner eyelids; now he opened them and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes. "Enter," he said.

Sarek came in. Spock looked up at him.

There was little preamble. "Emotions run deep within our species," Sarek said quietly. He sat down on Spock's bed. Spock rose to move beside him, watching and listening to his father intently. "Your behavior with T'Pau today was excusable, but it should not continue. Such emotions as you would like to express nearly destroyed our race, thousands of years ago, before we embraced the teachings of Surak. Our ethic of logic offers a serenity humans seldom experience."

"Do you feel that serenity, father?" Spock said.

"Yes," said Sarek. Spock was struck by his assurance and steadiness. "I feel that serenity. I feel the loss, but in so doing, I respect her memory by handling it with the utmost consideration and logic."

Spock had presented this question before, when he was younger, and he was sure he would receive the same answer, but he knew the answer would seem different, now. "Why did you marry her?" Spock asked.

"As the Vulcan ambassador to Earth, it was part of my duty to study and adapt to human customs. It was only logical that I make a human my partner in marriage."

"Only logical," Spock repeated. He thought about Uhura, and all of the things that had initially attracted him to her. She was a logical companion for him. But she was only logical, and nothing more; no matter how much he enjoyed her company, he never felt more than a calm sense of contentment around her. Had his parents been the same way, quietly comfortable, willing to ignore the pulsing beat of passion within them?

There was little else to say. Sarek told Spock that he, T'Pau, and a number of older Vulcans would be having dinner together at the Vulcan consulate, and that Spock was welcome to come if he wished, but Spock still did not feel like socializing. He declined the offer and, when Sarek left, called Uhura. He was always reassured by her presence, no matter how conflicted he felt over their shared feelings.

x

"Ohmygod, my communicator. It's Spock. What do I do, what do I do?"

"Answer it! Put him on speakerphone. No! Wait! Don't forget to be an ice queen! Aloof, cool, disinterested—"

"We're _actually dating_, Jim, ice queen's only when you're trying to get guys to notice you—"

"Okay, whatever, just, _answer_ it! Try to sound like nothing's wrong—"

"Nothing _is_ wrong, you idiotic—uh, hello?"

Spock's voice dribbled out of the communicator. Uhura hastily hit the speakerphone button and his voice rose to fill the room. Uhura and Kirk were huddled on Kirk's bed, staring intently at the device, totally still, although moments before they had been scrabbling at each other and waving their arms.

"Nyota," said Spock, his tone utterly and unreadably distant. "How are you?"

"Uh," said Uhura, trying to ignore Kirk, who was mouthing such useful advice as, _Be cool! Don't sound too eager! But be sympathetic!_ "I'm fine. What about you?" It was easy to instill her tone with concern.

"I am well enough," said Spock. "I am at Lady T'Pau's residence. My father and I will be staying there until our house has been rebuilt. I was wondering if you would like to visit me."

_Do it! _flailed Kirk. _But be aloof!_

"I'd love to," said Uhura. "I'll be along in an hour or so; I need to shower." She hesitated. "I love you. I'll see you in a little while."

"I look forward to your visit," said Spock, and hung up.

"'I love you?'" cried Kirk. "Are you insane? You're throwing yourself at him!"

"But I _do_ love him," said Uhura. "I can't tell the truth?"

"There is a _time_ for the truth and there is a _time_ for… fudging. Oh, Christ, now you've got me all on edge." Kirk fluttered his hand at his face. "Go ahead and get ready. I think I'll invite Bones over since mom is gone." Winona had left an hour ago to start an updated training course at the Academy that met every night for a few weeks.

"Okay," said Uhura. "I'll call you afterwards, alright?"

"SLAP. Let's do this."

"Did you seriously just say 'SLAP?' As in, 'sounds like a plan' translated into _lame_?"

"I'm a sucker for the '20s, okay?" Kirk stuck his tongue out at her. "Get out of my house! I have a boyfriend to _make love_ to."

"Oh, God, I don't want to know. _Bye_."

Kirk laughed as Uhura fled.

x

"Hey," said Uhura softly. "How are you?" She was standing in his doorway, having been let into the house by one of T'Pau's servants. Her long hair was down, curling loosely around her shoulders, and her eyes were soft.

Spock gestured for her to sit next to him. She did so, sinking into the soft bed, and he wrapped a hot arm around her, leaning into her. She leaned right back, perfectly comfortable, her worries starting to melt away.

"I am coping well enough," said Spock. "Thank you for coming to see me."

"Anytime, Spock," said Uhura. Hesitantly, she leaned to his face and kissed him, gently and slowly.

He kissed her back, just as hesitantly, shifting against her. After a time, his arms came up to wrap around her as his hesitation disappeared. He pushed her down onto the bed, covering her entirely with his heat, kissing her neck, her collarbone, all of the skin revealed by her low-cut shirt.

She writhed under him, quite unable to control herself (not that she would if she could) as he nuzzled her pulse. He wasn't going fast enough—she shoved him off of her, grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, then captured one of his hands and brought it to her mouth. He watched, wide-eyed and nostrils flared, as she licked each of his fingers, and then, quite obscenely, the webbing between his second and third finger. He made a strangled noise and she released to him to remove his shirt, and then her own. She bore him back down, mirroring his earlier actions, but with more intensity, grasping at the opening of his slacks as she did so, biting at his ears and neck.

He stiffened when she touched him, when she had gotten his slacks and underwear off, when she herself was naked above him. She felt a foreign tension in his abdomen and thighs. It was different and unusual, and quite unwelcome.

"Calm," she said soothingly to him in Vulcan.

He closed his eyes tightly in response.

She had never seen this reaction before. Generally he kept his eyes open—in fact, during their intercourse, he rarely blinked. They'd had sex, what, six times, now? She momentarily hated herself for forgetting the number.

"What is wrong, Spock?" she asked, again in Vulcan.

"Please do not speak in that language," Spock whispered in English.

Uhura had fucked the language into his ears, before. She'd discovered that Vulcan massively turned him on when she had moaned his (perfectly pronounced) full name a week ago. She didn't know why he wanted her talking in English, she didn't care; she was dripping for him, by now. She ran a flat hand across his chest as she pulled herself against his body, craving him, letting his strange behavior go. But he was no longer moving in response to her ministrations, and his tension remained.

She looked up at his face, rather than at her hand on his chest, and saw that he was watching her.

"Ready?" she whispered, sitting up and moving to straddle him.

"No," he said, putting out an arm to stop her. "Wait."

She thumped back down. What was that tone in his voice? She had never heard it before, and it filled her with apprehension. "What's wrong?" she asked again, this time in English.

He looked almost confused as he tried to answer. "I—I do not want—" (he was going to say 'this,' but something got turned the right way around in his tangled neural pathways and instead, he said,) "—you."

She jerked back from him, abandoning his intoxicating warmth. The words were forceful as a slap.

"I did not—" he tried to say, but he had meant that final word on some level, and he could not lie. "I am sorry," he finished almost defensively.

The hurt on her face made his heart break a little. "I know this is hard for you," she said softly, "but you can't—" She took a breath. "You can't say stuff like that, unless you really want to—want to go there."

"I am sorry," he said again, showing no real remorse. She was trying her best to be patient, but he did not look as apologetic as she liked.

She decided to ask him the question she had wanted to ask since they had started dating on that luminous night two months ago. "Does it make you uncomfortable that I love you even though you don't love me?" she said, staring straight into his eyes.

And for a while, he did not answer. He just stared at the ceiling. She felt sick. It was like she was seeing something on the inside of him fighting physically to come out.

"I suppose," he said, after a significant pause, "that I was—_am_ interested in you because you are interested in me. I like you. I like dating you. But I, I wanted to be your friend, for a while, and then instead we were going out, and at the time I did not think we were moving too fast, but now I think we are."

"Moving too—what were we doing today that we haven't done already?" she demanded.

He said something, quietly. "What?" she said sharply.

"Emotions," he said again, still quiet. "You are here, in my bed, the day after my mother has died. I cannot share this with you, not yet, and maybe not at all."

"Maybe not at all?" she repeated faintly, realizing he was talking about a mind meld, which he had never offered to perform with her. "Spock, if you—"

"I would rather not speak on the matter at this time," he said, a breath of frost appearing in his tone, reminding her irresistibly of earlier in the day, when he spoke so coldly to her. "Would you please leave?"

With that, she felt more naked than she ever had, around him or others. She leaned down and snatched her shirt off of the floor and covered herself ineffectually with it. He just kept staring at her, unashamed by his own graceful nudity. His expression was on the verge of hateful, and it set off something inside of her.

"You cannot play the unwilling accomplice here," she spat at him, hugging the shirt tight over her body. She was standing, now, stalking around the bed to fetch her other clothing. "You are just as at—at _fault_. You never said _no_ and I'll be damned if you didn't come just as many times as I did."

Spock blushed slightly; he was still uncomfortable actually discussing sex, which she generally found endearing.

"I do not deny my complicity," he said, attempting composure. "But I must ask you to leave. I am not emotionally prepared to have this conversation with you."

"Will you ever be?" she snapped. There was so _much_ surging around in her—regret, embarrassment, anger, and most of all, that same insistent passion for the boy who was lying on the bed like a goddamn plank. She regretted saying those words as soon as they left her mouth, but she was not about to take them back, not after he had refused to take back the statement that had started all of this.

"Leave," he said, his hands trembling.

She threw her clothes back on in a whirlwind and slammed the door as she left, too angry even to give him a final truculent glare.

He stared at the door for a long time, then heaved himself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to throw up.

x

Bones came—and went. Kirk stared out of the window, watching Bones's fast-retreating back. He shoved down the bile he felt in his throat and flinched when Bones slammed his truck door.

_Shit_, he thought, _shit_, _I have to calm down_—

It was all flickering back. The hands, the hands especially, holding his wrists. He cracked his jaw, panting, trying to distract himself. He rubbed his face. _God. It can't come back. I've been doing so well._

"Shit," he said aloud. His mouth was dry. He found a bottle of water near his bed and drained it. _Fuck, Bones, fuck. I really messed up. No, you really messed up. No, shit, it was my fault, it was all my—_

He took a long, calming breath. That worked for a few seconds. He snatched a copy of _Catch-22_ off of his bookshelf and opened it. He had hollowed it out years ago to create a hidden compartment. Every time he used the thing, he said an apology to Joseph Keller, who, really, would probably be fine with his book's new use.

There were some small tab pills in the book, and he took three of them, letting them dissolve on his tongue, which immediately felt fuzzy and thick. The drug was called birch. It was a less-extreme variation of methamphetamine, which he didn't normally take, but he'd left the cocaine he'd bought recently at Sulu's yesterday, afraid that police would be at the scene of the fire and in too much of a hurry to dispose of the stuff properly. He had bought the birch halfway through last summer and had used it just twice. He remembered it being very effective, and he'd never had a flashback quite this strong before (never allowed himself to): he really needed a strong high again.

He wasn't sure what to do. He needed the distraction, soon. He decided to call Uhura and invite her to Antinomy's; they had become friends that morning, hadn't they, while bonding over relationships? And who else could he talk to about the fight? He didn't know Gaila well enough, even though she probably had what he needed, and there was basically nobody else.

He dialed. She said, "Hello?"

"Nyota. I just had a fight with Bones."

"Oh no. I'm so sorry. This is a bad day for relationships, isn't it?"

"It really is. How's Spock?" He rubbed his forehead; something itched deep in his skull.

"Horrible. He was fine, and then, he said—"

"We should meet somewhere. Talk about it. Let off some steam."

"I could do that."

"What about a club? What about Antinomy?"

"Well, alright. Actually, that sounds great. I can go get a seat right now." Antinomy was a half-lounge, half-club with beautiful architecture and medium-priced drinks. "I take it you have a fake ID?" Uhura was eighteen and didn't need one; the drinking age had been lowered from twenty-one about a hundred years ago.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be there in an hour."

"Okay. Bye."

x

Kirk swayed, mouth dry. The drugs weren't working fast enough. The flashbacks were getting bad.

_Bones grabbing his arms. "Dammit, Jim, I'm your boyfriend, not a contortionist. Quit tryin' to—" Kirk kicking backwards, catching Bones in the stomach. Bones letting go with a surprised "Oof!"_

_Bones, kissing him gently—Bones's teeth grinding against his hip—Bones's light, pale breath on his neck. Kirk, trying to convince himself that this was Bones, not—that it was _Bones_._

_Segements. Pieces of memory, floating, orderless, flicking out of their anchors and driving at him, misinterpreting what had happened, forcing comparisons._

_Bones being the heat, the pressure on his back, the sharp pain. Bones being the fist. Bones being the half-face. Bones on the floor. Bones as pieces. Bones as bones…_

_Bones as the sharp._

_Shit, shit, shit. _Kirk tried to shove it all away. He took another two pills, swallowing them down with a Smirnoff from the refrigerator, screw what his mom thought. He braced himself against the floor's cool linoleum. (How he had he ended up down there?) The fight—he could barely remember it clearly, now. It wasn't Bones's fault. It was his fault. He hadn't reacted well to something—what hadn't he reacted well to? It was important that he remember. He had to tell Uhura. He was meeting her. He was meeting her at Antinomy's. Wait, those most recent pills he had taken… they were what was clouding his memory. They were bad, and they were making him feel sick—

He staggered to the sink and threw up into it, ejecting most of the last two pills he had taken from his body before they could completely sink into his bloodstream. He realized blearily that he might have just overdosed again. He swayed, hands digging into the counter as he retched. He felt much better. It was all the last two pills—why had he even taken them? (_Because the memories are starting to coalesce. Shut up, I know._)

He checked his reflection in the mirror. He was fine. He was perfect. He was ready to go.

He left for the club.

x

Kirk showed up at Antinomy's in more solemn clothes than Uhura expected. He wore a brightish green button-down shirt and rather drab gray and green reeds as pants. He'd done his eyes in emerald catchers, though, and festooned his ears with _sanik_ spikes, a new and popular trend from the fashion-plate Ridyah colony on Altair V. But he wore none of the traditional neon colors, thin bracelets, and thick necklaces associated with clubbing.

Uhura's own extravagance soothed her. She was wearing her brightest colors: insane yellows and pinks and oranges, mainly, since her skin was dark. She had lined her own eyes in sapphire catchers that sparkled in the flickering lights, and painted yellow lines across her face with Sahora skin paint that glittered and flashed. Kirk had only drawn a couple of Sahora lines on his cheeks, in a restrained green—why was he so interested in matching?—while she had done most of her face, neck, and arms. She didn't have any _sanik_ spikes, so she had just put about twenty false earrings all over her ears.

She knew something was wrong as soon as Kirk took more than a few steps towards her from the entrance to the club. He had a hard time with the floor, as if he wasn't sure which way was up, or forwards. His hands and face were twitching and when he sat down at the table she'd gotten a fifteen minutes ago, and she saw that his pupils were completely blown, so much so that he flinched whenever the lights strobed over his face.

"What did you take?" she demanded.

"Birch," he said, flicking his hand airily, as if it didn't matter. "Clear shrake." He was using the drug's other name.

"I didn't know you were an addict."

"I'm not. Just a causal user. Recreational."

"You seem pretty coherent," she said warily. He looked strange, sure, and moved even stranger, but his words were not forced or slurred.

"I can speak fine," he said, eyes fixed on a point behind her shoulder. "The world shifts a little to the side, and up, but my vocal cords still work."

"You're an introspective druggie, then."

"Quit harshing." He glanced at her, a speculative look on his open face. "We shouldn't fuck, should we?"

She sighed. "I shouldn't tell you this, but you really are one of the most attractive men I've ever met. However, that does _not_ mean we should fuck."

He grinned. "Thanks. I'm with you, though; it'd be a bad idea, under the circumstances." He paused, shaking his head. "Lights in my ears," he said by way of explanation. "Listen, what makes you beautiful—it's all that steel beneath your skin, and the flint in your eyes. You emote your brain as being this, this dangerous, fantastic dragon, and I can hear it roaring every time words come out of your mouth."

"Poetic," said Uhura dryly. "You're weird when you're high."

"Thank you. I do have to fuck somebody, though. To get the sharp to go away." He wrinkled his nose and flicked idly at the edge of the table as if he was trying to get something off of it.

"To what?" said Uhura curiously, but a waiter approached to take their drink orders. "Just a shot of Jack and a Coors Light," said Uhura to the girl.

"Make that two," said Kirk.

"What's this about the… sharp?" Uhura asked when the waiter had sashayed away. Kirk watched her go, rather distracted by the woman's large, clawed feet.

"Sex," he said, leaning back in his chair. He shivered unconsciously. "I don't like it rough. Bones does, he _really_ does. That's what we fought about. We had penetrative sex for the first time today—well, we tried to; I put up a pretty big fuss instead and it all went to _shit_. We're not sexually compatible, as it turns out, and he just can't understand that there are all of these sharp walls up around me."

"… Walls?"

"Yeah. Geometric. They have sharp patterns, and if I get too close to them they hurt." He shook his head again. "See, you can't repeat the patterns," he continued. "I don't date, not really. I don't repeat patterns or they come find me. Routine would be _so_ nice, but I don't know what's behind the sharp walls, and," he shrugged, "I can't get by them, anyway."

Uhura wasn't sure she understood the metaphor, or even knew if Kirk realized he was using metaphor, considering he was on birch, which was pretty potent shit.

"So, this _sharp_ thing has to do with Bones liking… rough sex?"

"Yes."

"Like, how so?"

"He has the typical masculine rape fantasies. He would like to dominate and force me to submit."

"And?" said Uhura. "Submission can be fun. The next big revolution in our society is legalization of plural marriage and the expansion and acceptance of quote-unquote deviant sexual practices. There's nothing wrong with wanting to hold somebody down. Or wanting to be held down." _Or ball-gags_. She knew it was strange that she was supporting kinks, but this thing with Kirk and Bones didn't seem like a big deal, not if it was something as common as domination and submission.

"Politics abhor me," said Kirk. "Ever since I blew up that voting booth, the national sections in the news lean away from me, I swear. That's not what I'm talking about, though. This—this isn't about paraphilia."

"It sounds like it is."

"It's about evocation," he said, as if that explained everything. "About dredging. Finding and repeating." He shivered, very hard, his whole body vibrating. "There are pros and cons of this," he whispered, eyes wide and dry, suddenly fearful. "This getting high. The distractions are easier, but the memories are stronger. Shit. I need more color. Dance?"

"Our drinks—"

"I'll be right back," he said seriously. "I've got to throw the gun away."

And he disappeared into the crowd. _Throw the gun away?_ Uhura repeated to herself, confused. _What on earth does that mean?_

The drinks came and went. She rushed down her shot and nursed the beer more slowly, watching the pulsing crowd, feeling the warmth of the alcohol seep into her veins, rushing through the webbing of her body. She felt distant from Spock, who seemed suddenly foreign to her. Uhura liked being part of a crowd, loved the feeling of following a greater will than her own. It was not that she lacked independence, but that she enjoyed being swept into actions lone people could not orchestrate. She waited for Kirk to get back; waited for the moment when she would leap into the people and move with them.

She was not particularly angry with Kirk. There was something clearly wrong with him that she had not known about. He seemed like he needed help, and she was nothing if not compassionate—well, okay, that was a lie, but she was nothing if not _knowledgeable_, and maybe she could help him. Plus, he was rather interesting in an altered state. But _birch_, though. That was a pretty hard drug. It wasn't problematically addictive, but it had some serious side-effects and was definitely illegal.

He came back after a short time, maybe five or ten minutes later, wiggling out of the crowd. He was shining, his paint smeared and his shirt unbuttoned to below his pecs. His hair fell, damp, across his face, having already lost most of its gelled standing power. He fell down into the chair next to her and tossed back his shot. He looked much happier.

"Here's how it works," he said conspiratorially to her, more jittery than ever. "The walls are sharp, right? And they're coming for you—that's what drugs do, they make everything accelerate—so you have to find the same situation and change it before the walls get to you. You have to recreate it and take control. Not dominate—just shift—with the help of the drug. It forces the walls towards you, yeah, but then it also helps you avoid them. See what I'm saying?"

This sounded like a coping mechanism, of sorts. "What situation are you trying to change?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I've forgotten, thanks to the birch. I've thrown the gun away." He pronounced the phrase differently, this time, like he didn't know what it meant anymore; it had definitely had a distinct meaning the first time he'd said it. "I've been doing it all summer, but it keeps coming back, even though… _Bones!_"

Uhura glanced around quickly, thinking Kirk saw Bones somewhere, but he was nowhere in sight. She looked back at Kirk just as he started talking again—evidently he had simply realized something about his boyfriend.

"Bones isn't good for me," Kirk pronounced matter-of-factly. "Ever since the first time he made me flashback. He's too sharp; he wouldn't even work with the birch." Uhura tried to speak, but Kirk cut her off, staring at her. "Is Spock too sharp?" he asked.

Uhura was rather taken aback. "He can be," she said, still not sure what Kirk meant, exactly, by 'sharp,' but thinking she had an idea. "He's not like us, you know. He's an alien—an actual alien." She said the word like it was new, wonder in her voice—she had never realized before that Spock's _differentness_ could be truly attributed to his species. He seemed just so _human_, but he wasn't—a different people with different customs and bodies and expectations had brought him up on a different planet. "It makes sense, now, that he doesn't understand."

"Understand what?" asked Kirk curiously.

"Doing the right thing with what you have," she told him. "That's what he doesn't get. It's not right, to him, that I love him but he doesn't love me back, even though it's okay that that's how it is." She looked through her lashes at him as she took another drink of her beer. "Does Bones love you?"

"I don't know," said Kirk, contemplative. "I think so. He has sharp in him, but I think that helps, actually… which is strange. They don't _fit_, in my mind." Kirk finished off his beer. "Spock should love you," he said frankly to Uhura. "You're a lion. A tall tree. A thing of wonder." He stood and held out his hand to her. "Let's dance."

She let him pull her onto the floor, into the people, into the crying mass.

x

Chekov was having an _awesome _night.

Gaila had called him at around ten and asked if he wanted to go clubbing. He'd been clubbing a few times, back in Russia, with older friends, and had really enjoyed it. He was deeply honored that Gaila had asked _him_ to come with. The others she invited were seniors, boys and girls with long, shining hair and 5.9 GPAs and designer clothes. She said she had taken a liking to him, winking over the vidscreen and referencing their night together at the beginning of the year. He considered fainting. They went out for nourishment, first, having appetizers at an upscale restaurant. He ate some incredible blush calamari and downed a glass of claret from a crystal carafe. Gaila was incredibly nice, and so were the glamorous boys and girls. He was a bit suspicious of them, since he felt so out of place, but Gaila was just quirky, it seemed, and simply wanted to bring him along, with no catches or requirements.

Then, they went to Antinomy's, Gaila gaining entrance with her pheromones and personality alone. The bouncer didn't even ask for IDs.

Chekov was instantly in love. The place was solid color, stripes and dots and swirls covering the walls, floors, and ceiling. There were revolving, flashing lights taped onto every surface, and the dance floor was thick with revelers. There was a quiet bar area that he was quite disinterested in. With Gaila and the others, he pressed onto the dance floor, elated by the noise and hue.

He saw Uhura first and waved franticly at her until she saw him and squeezed through the mass to press up against him. The heat of her body was vaguely uncomfortable since he had no particular romantic interest in her, but she did not seem their closeness, so they danced near to each other, unable to converse because of the volume of the music.

She melted away, eventually, leaving him with a tiny finger wave and a smile.

And then, a few minutes after the girl he had been trying to grind with left with her stupid boyfriend (who had shown up _just after_ she had started paying attention to him), Chekov saw Kirk.

Actually, Kirk saw him. Kirk was playing the crowd, trying to figure out who he could get to screw him in the back alley, when the birch nudged his mind and, like a fucked-up guardian angel, pointed him towards a skinny, sad-looking Russian kid who was, of course, very familiar.

In Kirk's mind, the sharp walls retreated a couple of inches as Progress Was Made.

Kirk danced over.

The music felt like a soft, insistent scarf wrapping itself around Kirk's brain. He stared at Chekov through it. Christ, could the kid look any hotter? The gold shirt he was wearing could barely be counted as such since it was basically netting and he'd painted purple Sahora over what looked suspiciously like his entire body, judging by the swirling lines that, dear God, dipped down his chiseled hipbones and pranced through his curly goody trail. Kirk gulped heavily and dragged his eyes upwards, pushing away the clouds that had formed next to his ears. Chekov was beaming up at him through his ridiculously long lashes. Nothing this sexy could possibly be legal. The scarf of music fluttered around, getting thicker. Kirk could barely see through it. He batted absently at it, trying to get a better look at Chekov.

Chekov, who wasn't high on birch and who saw no scarves anywhere, pressed himself unashamedly against Kirk, whose shirt was completely unbuttoned now, displaying a thick chest dripping with sweat. Kirk felt halogen flash through his veins. He wrapped himself around Chekov and kissed the boy deeply, tasting cool mercury in his young mouth. Chekov made a surprised noise, thinking for a second about Bones and infidelity and trust and stress and mistakes and, for some reason, Sulu, but after a while he melted into Kirk's mouth, so that Kirk, almost obscenely, felt Chekov slide into him as he sucked the silver out of Chekov's lungs. The sharp paled, pulling back even further, so far removed from him Kirk that forgot the sharp was there.

Kirk's whole body was shivering from the birch and the electricity of Chekov's skin. Mercury filled him, weighing him down; if he thought about it (which he didn't), he would realize that the mercury was guilt, poisonous consequences; the obvious taste of medicine and the slantwise glare of disapproval and the ominous _psh_ noise of hyposprays being cocked. The mercury was Bones.

They moved around each other, Kirk emulating the scarf of music twirling about his head, leading Chekov by the boy's flat hips. A sort of warm veil was rising to cover both of them, obscuring them (it seemed to Kirk) from the rest of the crowd.

Neither of them were sure how they got outside and bribed a bouncer and found a not extremely dirty corner. _Gold_, Kirk thought. _Gold mesh, and a chest, lips burning up my neck, the scarf fluttering away_. The beat of the music was faint, pulsing at Kirk's back; Chekov had shoved him against the wall of the club and was trying to _abolish_ their zippers. Kirk leaned back, so hot he shivered. Chekov was a brown-eyed crusade of sex, a thousand naked armies marching heavy-heeled over Kirk's goosebump-ridden flesh. Every panted word that came out of Chekov's mouth destroyed Kirk with its urgency.

They didn't know how long it took; didn't care. The sharp walls were _utterly_ gone when Chekov finally came, choking his orgasm against Kirk's neck, his lips little brands of fire. They raised their arms as one and wrapped themselves once more around each other, trying to regain control over their lungs.

Neither of them had spoken the entire time.

x

Uhura boggled.

"Oh God," she said. "Oh God. Oh God. Oh Christ."

"You are repetitive," accused Kirk, aiming a finger at her. They were back at their table, Kirk having returned for another beer to find Uhura nursing a Cardassian sunrise and evidently able to _smell_ the sex on him (or at least accurately identify the fleck of honest-to-God semen on his cheek).

"You. Had sex. With Pavel. That's not good. That's bad. That's very bad."

"You are _so wrong_. It was damn good. It was like being attacked by chocolate phoenixes."

"That—that doesn't even make sense."

"Think about it for a while."

"You know, I don't think I will. Jim, what about _Leo_?"

Kirk flinched. "Yeah. I know. I'm going to tell him tomorrow."

"Oh God. Jim, he is really not going to be happy."

"There was nothing else I could do," Kirk said. "You have no idea what the sharp is like." He scrubbed his face in his hands. "I have to go home."

"Oh my God, what is _wrong_ with you?" Uhura cried. "You seem so _fine_ most of the time, and then you go and get high and cheat on your boyfriend out of _nowhere_!"

Kirk stared at her.

"The birch is wearing off," he said absently. "I can feel it. I'm going. Good luck with Spock."

"Jim, I—"

"Save it. I have to go home."

"_Why?_"

"I just do. It's what I do afterwards. I go home and I go to sleep."

"Jim, you don't—"

"Thanks for coming with me. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"_Jim—_"

"Nyota." He staggered to his feet and loomed over her, putting his arms firmly on her shoulders. "If you really love Spock, then you'll know that his needs outweigh your needs. Think about that."

He patted her on the cheek and swept out, only clinging to the wall half of the time for balance.

x


	23. Chapter 23: The Trouble With Tribbles

A/N: This chapter is much lighter than the last few have been, fyi.About the drugs—I've had some significant experience with such activities. Mainly bad. Do you guys seriously think I condone their behavior? Come on.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Twenty-Three: The Trouble with Tribbles_

x

Sulu was… fine.

It sort of made sense that Kirk had had sex with Chekov. Behind a club, no less. While Kirk was high. On, not even pot, which was legit, but fucking _birch_, which was some truly intense shit.

Because, really, Kirk _would_ do something like that—Sulu was sure there was something _wrong_ with Kirk; he had been much too unafraid of running into a burning house. And Chekov, well, he was sixteen. And honestly, that was sort of what Sulu liked about him in the first place: Chekov didn't understand people, so he just followed them along, but most importantly, he really seemed to _enjoy_ whatever it was they got him into. There was a very messed-up, contradictory innocence in Chekov that Sulu couldn't help but admire.

He remembered seeing Chekov for the first time, riding that bike; well, actually, lying against the tree, looking hazy after running into it. He'd fallen in love with the boy's looks, then, and later with his personality; the way Chekov talked to himself while he worked math problems and could go from being extremely shy to incredibly outgoing at the turn of a hat. Chekov was evidently an extroverted introvert, or _something_; Sulu, who was steady and consistent (most of the time; though not as much, recently—which was all Pavel's fault, actually), couldn't really understand Chekov's slightly bipolar personality. Maybe Chekov _was _bipolar. He'd have to ask.

"Are you okay?" said Uhura, snapping her fingers in front of him. "Please don't go into a blood rage. Or, you know, whatever."

"Oh, I'm fine," said Sulu, perking up. He was standing outside of Enterprise High, staring into the parking lot. Uhura had just jogged up to him and spilled about everything that had happened last night. "I was just… processing," he clarified.

"You're not gonna go kill him?" Uhura looked worried.

"Who? Oh, Jim?"

"Yeah," said Uhura, in much the same manner of someone saying, "Um, _obviously_."

"Nah. Sounds like he's got it hard enough as it is."

Uhura shook her head at him. "You make no sense to me. You _freaked_ when Pavel was hitting on Jim at the beginning of the year. You didn't even _talk_ to Jim until, like… god, was that yesterday?"

"More like day before yesterday, but yeah." Sulu shrugged. "I understand Jim a little bit better after the fire. And I haven't been completely insane about Pavel for a while now."

"What? Yes you have. Sylvia, remember?" She was talking about the girl who had taken Chekov to homecoming. "You were _not fine_ with that."

"Okay, you're right," said Sulu, trying to be patient and explain what was going through his mind. "Here's the deal. Sylvia was a _legitimate_ threat. Jim is just—well, _you_ know. He's into Leo. Or not? Basically, he's not going to steal Pavel into a relationship. Just fuck him, evidently, and hey, everybody jacks off. I mean, it's not like they had penetrative sex."

"Hikaru, frot is a legitimate sexual act—"

"I know! But, there _is_ a difference. And I'm not _that_ fine with it; don't make me think about them too much or I'll start to get nauseous."

Uhura laughed. "I'm glad you're human. If I were you, I'd be off strangling Jim right about now."

"He could use some strangling, I agree," said Sulu, starting towards the school, "but I'm sure Leo will see to that. And okay, I am also pretty disappointed in Pavel for cuckolding Leo."

"I know, right?" Uhura trailed after him, adjusting her bookbag.

"But possibly, Jim can be very persuasive? That's the reasoning I'd lean towards. I mean, I could see having sex with Jim."

Uhura blinked at him. "You're so _calm_. When I grow up, I want to be you."

"It's easy—just fall _stupid_ in love with somebody."

"Honey, I _am_ stupid in love with somebody. And I'm pretty sure he's about to break up with me. Or vice versa. Well, the vice versa is looking more likely."

Sulu paused, mouth half open to request passage through the school's back doors. "What? _Really?_ Why?"

"I haven't told you about the rest of it… well, we had an argument."

"Oh my God, what about?"

Uhura shrugged. "Differences of opinion. Sort of. Oh, I don't know, it was _everything_ coming together." She steeled herself visibly. "I think I'm going to break up with him before he can break up with me."

Sulu could not believe what he was hearing. Uhura had been completely down the drain for weeks about Spock, and now they were breaking _up_? What was _wrong_ with the world?

"Wait. What?"

Uhura covered her eyes. "I—okay. I have a hard time explaining this. I already told Christine and _she_ told me I was insane. Which I am. Just—Jim said something, last night, that _really_ made sense. He said that I should be putting Spock before me if I really am in love with him. So, that made me realize that I _haven't_ been putting Spock before me, and that, therefore, I'm not really in love with him."

Sulu gaped at her for a while. "What the _actual_ fuck?" he said.

"_Okay_, let me rephrase this," said Uhura. "Okay. So. If indeed I do love Spock, which I do, then I am going about it the wrong way and should not be in love with him."

"There's… there's no _right way_ to be in love!"

"There is, and you're illustrating it. You're not going off to kill Jim even though he fucked the guy you're in love with. And I would be, in your place. So, my priorities are off. My love is messed up."

_That sort of made sense_, Sulu thought. "But, isn't it better to be in love with somebody the wrong way than to be not in love with them and also have a fucked up mind? Which you seem to think are your two options."

"They _are_ my two options, except I'm not falling out of love with Spock, because you can't choose to fall into and out of love—that just happens. Okay, never mind, it's _too damn early_ to be philosophical. Basically I'm breaking up with Spock because I'm not treating him right. Got it?"

"Uh. Yes. Please don't kill me, I was just asking."

Uhura scowled at him. "Good. I have to go do that, now."

"What, _break up with him_? In the morning? What are you going to do for the rest of the day? When you have _six out of seven_ classes together? Also, he may not return your feelings, but you're definitely the longest relationship he's had, and he can't _hate_ you, he's not going to—"

Sulu realized that Uhura was giving him one of the dirtiest looks he had ever seen and the words piled to a hasty stop in his throat.

"I realize all of this," she said tightly, "but I've got my courage up and like I was saying, I am actually still in love with him, so I'm doing it now before I chicken. Quit trying to talk me out of it."

"Yes, _señora_," said Sulu humbly.

"Good. Now. I'm going."

"Er, well, good luck?"

"Thanks," she said sarcastically.

x

Kirk found Bones in the parking lot. Bones took one look at his half pleading, half apologetic facial expression and knew something was up.

"Okay, before I say anything, just remember _not_ to kill me," said Kirk, holding up his hands in a sort of 'I am unarmed' gesture. "We've been friends for ages, haven't we? And okay, so there were some issues yesterday, with the sex, and you possibly perceiving that I was attacking your sexual preferences, which I _totally wasn't_, but we always have issues—we always get into fights. We even did that when we were little. But things get better, right?"

Bones just stared at him. Kirk melted slightly under his gaze.

"Er, right. Well. So, I, sort of had sex with Pavel last night."

And now Bones's jaw was resting peacefully on his chest. Kirk restrained the urge to close his eyes, curl into a tight ball, and rock back and forth until all of this was over. "Yeah. Um. It was a mistake. Obviously."

Bones looked like he wanted to speak, but found the task beyond him.

"I was—sort of high. You didn't know this, but I have this thing were I'm more insane than you thought, and, I took some birch—" Bones's jaw dropped even further, which Kirk hadn't thought was possible, but anyway. "—and, there's thing I've been doing to, well, it's sort of a coping mechanism? I don't know. But it sort of requires me to have sex with somebody, and Pavel was there, at the club I went to, and. Yeah. I'm… a horrible person."

Bones mouthed soundlessly.

"I know how you feel, I really do," said Kirk passionately. "You're really, really pissed, and you can't _believe_ how stupid I am, and you might even want to go kill Pavel (which seriously? Is a bad idea, because I sort of coerced him into it with my amazing sexiness), but deep down inside—really deep—uh, okay, really _really_ deep—you love me and want to stay friends with me."

There was no reply from Bones.

Kirk twiddled his thumbs. "We have class in ten, you know."

Silence.

"I take it you're going to be breaking up with me?"

Bones finally managed to say, "You say 'sort of' much too often."

Kirk blinked at him. "Is that it?"

"Of COURSE not!" Bones roared. "You had SEX with PAVEL? At a CLUB? While you were HIGH on BIRCH?"

"It's really important that you remember the _not killing me_ pact we've got going—"

"Not—a jury—in the _world_," snarled Bones, aiming a finger at Kirk. "We are definitely breakin' up. Actually I might never speak to you again."

"Ooh, see, no, that would be a mistake. I mean, I _am_ insane, I'll give you that, but I'm also a good friend, and—"

"How can you—? Jim. You—okay. You did so much wrong here that I don't _even_ know where to start. Let's… let's not even discuss Pavel. Although I will be having a talk with him."

"But, hey, he wasn't—"

"He won't get hurt. Much. I promise. Now _listen_." Bones paused to give his next statement strength. He stared right at Kirk. "_Birch?_"

"Yeah, okay. Not my finest hour."

"By _no_ means. I had no idea, Jim. _None_. This isn't somethin' you—somethin' you _do_. You're the top of the class. You can't, just—run around _doin'_ these things. _Why?_"

Kirk let out a breath, avoiding Bones's eyes. "That's a big question," he said.

"We've got time."

"Well, technically, we don't, class starts in—"

"I really doubt our GPAs are gonna go down if we miss one class of English."

"That's the kind of thinking—"

"_Jim_."

"Okay, okay. Um, well, I just—oh, God, I can't tell you, I really _can't_. You have to believe me. I would have told you if I could, it's just that I—don't talk about it. Ever. To anyone. Okay, and actually, until _yesterday_, nobody even knew there was something I didn't talk about. But, I think—" Kirk stopped. He was going to say, _I think I _wanted_ someone to find out, that's why I brought Uhura with me to the club_, but he couldn't, because then Bones might think that Kirk really wanted to tell him, but Bones wasn't the one Kirk wanted to tell. Kirk knew none of this made any sense, because he had no idea _who_ it was that he wanted to tell, but, it was his mind, and it was kind of fucked up right now.

"You think what?" Bones pressed.

"I think it's good that we're breaking up, actually," said Kirk, jumping ahead in the conversation a bit. He knew he'd have to say this eventually. "I really and truly do not have anything against your sexual preferences, but I just don't like them. It's unrelated to all of this, but—that kink of yours really" (_disturbs me scares me horrifies me_) "turns me off."

Bones's expression went hollow. "I'm a monster to you, that's what you're saying?"

Kirk tried to clarify; he thought he'd phrased that right. But Bones was evidently going to take umbrage to Kirk's reasoning no matter how he worded his objections.

"_That_ was why Jocelyn broke up with me," snapped Bones. He was flushed, clearly embarrassed, but also angry. "Because she said there was somethin' wrong with me for wantin'—oh, Christ." He covered his eyes. "I didn't share this with you lightly, Jim. And then you went and—made me feel like _shit_ for wantin' it—"

"No! God, Bones, that's not it at all. It's nothing against _you_. You can handcuff whomever you want to any damn bedpost on this side of the continental divide, but I just don't go in for that sort of thing. I'm pretty disturbingly vanilla. It's unexpected, I know, but I like—I like to have sex with people, not ideas."

Bones, to Kirk's absolute horror, looked like he was about to cry. _Fuck_, thought Kirk. Could I have phrased that _any_ worse?

"Don't be so damn flippant," said Bones softly, his anger restrained into a tight little package at the back of his throat. "God, Jim. Would you think about other people, for once?" He bit his lip and stared over Kirk's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Kirk whispered.

"You could _never_ be sorry enough," Bones said to him in a tone of deepest disappointment. For some reason, that hit Kirk harder than all of the previous anger. "Go to class. I'll be right there."

Kirk hesitated, but Bones looked at him with actual hate in his eyes. Kirk couldn't face that, right now. Blindly he turned from his ex-boyfriend and walked up to the school. He kept his mind blank. If he didn't, he knew he would sit down and sob.

x

Uhura decided that the best course with Spock was logic, and it was. She cornered him outside of Mr. Maru's classroom and, talking fast, explained exactly why they were not right for each other and that they should stop seeing each other and that she was very sorry about the timing but she felt that at the moment that she should be there for him as a friend, unless of course—but she stopped herself. No, she could _not_ let herself put a loophole in. She had to end this.

Spock was shocked that Uhura was breaking up with him, not that he showed it. He was not unhappy about their parting, but it surprised him—he had gotten the sense that she would stick it out 'till the end, as it were, not halt in the middle of things. They were, by no means, _over_ as a couple simply because of that one fight. The relationship was quite salvageable. But her tone of voice when she told him that _this was it_ was undeniably firm, and he had no logical objections to the severing of their romantic ties, so the thing was done, and the relationship was formally dissolved.

Which did not mean that he lacked any particular feeling on the situation. In fact, when she went inside the room, leaving him outside, he realized that he was trembling. He was not sick, as he had been yesterday after their fight; he just felt—he didn't know what it was he was feeling. Hollow, maybe, as if he lacked something he was used to having.

Bones came striding up the hall like a thundercloud, underclassmen throwing themselves out of his way. Spock watched as Bones prowled into Mr. Maru's room without a glance at Spock. Moments later, he was hauling Chekov out by his shirtsleeve, Sulu following them both with a dangerous expression on his face.

Spock's curiosity got the better of him. _What was this about?_ He moved forward to watch as the three arranged themselves into a triangle, Chekov angrily tugging his cuff out of Bones's fist.

"—_not_ Pavel's fault," Sulu was saying sharply to Bones.

"I'm not sayin' it is completely his fault, but the implication—" Bones tried to say.

"You cannot go to Jim about this?" Chekov said, drawing himself further away from Bones. He looked angrier than Spock had ever seen him, and the expression was ugly on his face. "I will have nothing to with you if you will be this rude to me. I was going to apologize when I saw you next, but if instead you will drag me out of my class simply because your boyfriend cannot keep his hands off of me—"

"Listen," said Bones firmly. "Don't try to reason yourself outta this, Pavel. You _know_ you did the wrong thing. You can't possibly have imagined that no consequences would stem from what happened. You _don't interrupt monogamous relationships._ It's not _done_, d'you understand? Okay, yes, I'll be the first to admit that this is mainly Jim's fault, but—Pavel." Bones closed the space between them once more and squeezed Chekov's shoulder. "Think about it?"

Chekov looked at Bones, then at the ground.

"Yes, Leo," he said quietly. "I am sorry."

"I know. And _I'm_ sorry I manhandled you. I was just riled up."

"That's no excuse," Sulu started to say hotly, then calmed himself. "Just—don't do it again. And the same to you," he added sternly to Chekov, who laughed a little.

Then Bones frowned. "Where's Jim?"

"What do you mean?" Chekov asked.

"Jim—I sent him up here ahead of me. I just realized he wasn't in English."

"I haven't seen him all morning," said Sulu with a shrug. "Maybe he decided to skip and avoid you, Leo."

"Did you break up?" Chekov asked, sounding guilty.

"Absolutely," said Bones, with another (slightly less intense) glare at Chekov. "He's not the type to run from things, though… or maybe he is," Bones added bitterly.

Scotty stuck his head out of the door. "Just thought you should know, class is startin' in thirty seconds."

Spock hurried forwards. Sulu, Chekov, and Bones followed at a more leisurely pace.

"Where's Jim?" Scotty asked, looking concerned.

"We're not sure," said Sulu, just as Bones said, "Doesn't matter."

Scotty narrowed his eyes at Bones. "You really think 'tis a good idea t' let him loose after what happened last night? Nyota told me all about it," he added pointedly.

"He is likely to be in the library," said Spock, without thinking.

Bones blinked at him. They were inside the door by this time, standing in the short hallway near the entrance. Sulu and Chekov had seated themselves and the whole class was watching them. "Why would you say that?"

"Logically, a person such as James would take refuge there," said Spock, discomfited that he was guessing this, or that he was guessing at all.

"Mr. Maru! Do y'mind if I run down t' th' library for just a mo'?" Scotty called across the room.

"What for?" snapped Mr. Maru.

"Er, ah need t' get a book for me presentation. It won't take but a second."

Mr. Maru shrugged. "While you're there, get the book Mr. Madaki has on hold for me?" He swiped his ID over the scanner on his desk and a pressed a button on the touch-screen, giving Scotty an electronic hall pass. "Come right back."

"Yes, sir," said Scotty without an obvious trace of irony. He winked at Spock and Bones and left just as the bell rang.

x

Kirk was resting in the 600 section, next to medical sciences. There was a pharmacology book open in his lap to a page about methamphetamine and its derivates. He looked up as Scotty approached and closed the book guiltily.

"You should come t' class," said Scotty softly.

Kirk shook his head. "Bones hates me," he whispered. "_I_ hate me. And I don't even want to know what Hikaru is planning to do to me."

"Hikaru is disturbin'ly alright with what happened," said Scotty. He settled down on the floor beside Kirk. "'Tis worryin' me, actually."

"He is? Oh, that's good to know." Kirk looked suspicious. "How'd you know where to find me?"

"Spock thought you'd be here," said Scotty. "You—"

There was a noise to the side of them. Beyond Scotty, at the end of the row, stood Spock.

"Mr. Maru gave me a pass," said Spock, holding up his ID almost nervously as Kirk and Scotty stared at him. "You may leave, Montgomery."

Scotty shrugged and heaved himself to his feet. "Have it your way, Spock," he said. He clapped Kirk on the shoulder. "Don't get down, laddie. Men like you always bounce back."

Spock approached hesitantly. Kirk was watching him, clutching the pharmacology book in his lap with white-knuckled hands.

"I have heard that you and Leonard ended your relationship," he said. "I come to offer my condolences, or my congratulations, whichever you find to be more acceptable."

Kirk actually laughed.

"I would also like to tell you that Nyota and I ended our relationship," Spock continued. "So, I find myself, as it were, in your situation."

Kirk stopped laughing. Concern flickered over his features. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "What happened?"

"She explained that, since I did not support the continuation of the relationship, it should not progress, even though she continued to… have feelings… for me," Spock said. "She said that my needs outweighed her own."

_Oh, shit_, thought Kirk. He remembered most of last night, and he certainly recalled his parting comment to Uhura. "Um, I might be kind of responsible for this," Kirk admitted, figuring he'd better tell the truth. "I was with Nyota last night, and I told her that you should be her first priority. I used that phrasing, with the 'needs,' exactly."

Spock tilted his head. "Fascinating," he said quietly. "If you were indeed the originator of the phrase, could you possibly explain the logic behind it? As far as I am aware, the self is the primary concern of the human. Nyota, however, emphasized that _I_ was her primary concern."

"Yeah, because she's in love with you."

Spock looked confused. "What has love to do with personal priorities?"

"Are you kidding? Come on. If you're in love with somebody, you would basically do anything for them. You would risk everything for their preservation."

"That is most illogical."

Kirk grinned and patted Spock's cheek. "You're too cute. It's completely cliché to say this, but I guess I have to—love _is_ illogical."

"James, you are speaking gibberish. Nothing is illogical, especially not a sentiment shared by a vast number of people, including Vulcans."

Kirk threw up his hands. "Fine. Think that way. But consider what Nyota did, and how illogical of an action it was for her."

Spock did not reply to that. He didn't know how to. He reached over and plucked the pharmacology book out of Kirk's hands.

"Why did you take the birch?" he asked.

Kirk shook his head. "People have got to quit asking me that."

"Why, James? It was—"

"Don't fucking say it was illogical."

"It _was_."

Kirk got up. "Let's go to class, okay?"

"James…" Spock sighed. "That is your choice." Kirk grabbed Spock's hand to help him up.

"Your skin is so hot," said Kirk softly when Spock was standing in front of him. He was still holding Spock's hand.

"Vulcans have a higher body temperature than humans. A full Vulcan would have an internal temperature of forty-four point two degrees Celsius, while my average temperature is exactly three point six degrees cooler than that." Spock pulled his hand gently out of Kirk's, trying not to let his mind wander, which was difficult, with Kirk so close to him.

"That's… very interesting." Kirk also looked rather distracted. "Um, I gotta drop by the office and get a tardy, okay?"

"You could simply obtain a nurse's pass," said Spock, well aware that what he was saying was directly influenced by how Kirk's hand had felt wrapped around his fingers.

"What? To do that, you have to have been in the nurse's office before the bell—" Kirk paused. "Wait. You have a library pass?"

"Yes," said Spock, pleased that Kirk was catching on.

Kirk stared at him. "Are you offering me your pass?"

"I would do no such thing," said Spock calmly, handing Kirk his ID card. "That would be dishonest."

Kirk grinned and took it. "You are too cool, you know that?" Kirk put his own ID card next to Spock's and pulled his PADD out of his pocket. "Check for the librarian, would you?"

"Even though there is no illegal activity currently occurring, I shall do so," said Spock, peering over the stacks.

"I thought Vulcan's didn't lie."

"We merely _rephrase_. Your actions are not illegal, simply… against the rules."

"I get it." Kirk typed a couple of lines of code into his PADD and watched as a nurse's pass appeared on his ID card. "Transferred and edited. Shame I forgot to mention that loophole in the firewall to Ms. Valence when I was working on the school security system. Thanks, Spock."

"For what?" said Spock guilelessly.

"That's the spirit," chuckled Kirk.

They headed back to English.

x

Kirk and Bones sat on opposite of the room from each other, as did Spock and Nyota. The tension was evident throughout class. Mr. Maru, informed of the tragedy that had occurred at Spock's house but completely unaware of anything else, made a few ungraceful comments, but it was nothing too harmful.

Everybody trooped off to physics in an awkward bunch. Thankfully, Pike had decided to make today's lesson casual.

"You all did very well on Friday's test," said Pike, pacing in front of the classroom. "As usual, the perfect score pencils go to Mr. Kirk and Mr. Spock, with an honorary mention for Ms. Gaila, who did not receive full credit because a single decimal point was out of place. Problem fifteen, if you were wondering, Gaila." Gaila scowled. "Nice work, class. Now, I've made up a rather different lesson for today. I know this is a physics class, but I know you all had a tough weekend, so I've decided to do a fun little exobiology lesson." Pike held up a foot-square wire cage filled with little balls of fur. "How many people here have heard of tribbles?"

Uhura let out something resembling a squeal. Everybody turned to her.

"My dad brought one home for me one time," she muttered, embarrassed. "They're… they're really cute."

Chekov, who was sitting next to her, looked intrigued. "What are they?" he asked.

"Tribbles, or _Polygeminus grex_, are small mammalian animals native to planet Iota Geminorum IV. They are notable for being voracious eaters, as well as for their rapid rate of procreation." Pike paused to undo the latch on the cage. "They are also well known for their… soothing properties."

Spock raised his eyebrow.

"If you would divide yourselves into pairs, I will hand out the tribbles," said Pike.

Kirk, who would have generally partnered with Bones, latched onto Spock, who was fine with avoiding Uhura, even though their breakup had been amicable. Bones glared across the room at Kirk and asked Chapel if she would partner with him. Sulu claimed Chekov, and Uhura, who was busy staring at the cage of tribbles, was left without a partner, since there were an odd number of people in the class. Scotty and Gaila invited her to join them.

Each pair got a tribble. Pike kept one for himself. It was a pale yellow color, and larger than the rest.

"This is Spike," said Pike, holding up the tribble. "My friend Vin Asunder lent him to me for the purposes of this lesson. The rest of the tribbles in this room are Spike's offspring. Now, can anybody tell me how to tell the difference between male and female tribbles?"

There was a long silence.

Pike smiled. "It has been hypothesized that tribbles reproduce asexually. However, tribble reproduction has never been observed. The scientists that have attempted to study these creatures are generally perplexed by their mating habits…"

Kirk glanced over at Spock, who was holding their tribble. Spock was staring at it and stroking it with great concentration. The tribble was letting out a low humming noise.

"Spock."

Spock didn't react. He kept stroking the tribble. There was a faraway look on his face.

"_Spock_."

Spock jumped. The tribble nuzzled closer to Spock's chest, but Spock put it down primly on the table and stared back up at Pike. Kirk tried not to laugh.

The other students were equally entranced by their tribbles. Sulu and Chekov were eye level with their specimen, both of them petting it. Uhura had claimed Scotty and Gaila's tribble and was utterly silent as it hummed in her arms. Even Bones looked enraptured by his gray one.

Pike trailed off. Kirk, Spock, and Chapel were the only ones who noticed. Everybody else was staring at their tribbles as if they possessed the secret to immortality. Pike grinned at the three of them. Then he cleared his throat loudly. Everybody else in the room leaped collectively a few meters off of their seats.

"I see you have been exposed to their aforementioned soothing properties," said Pike, amused. Bones was bright red. He shoved his tribble towards Chapel, not meeting anybody's eye. Again, Kirk tried not to laugh.

"Tribbles are, as I have said, a mystery to science," Pike continued. "We know that they are susceptible to certain poisons and the number of offspring they produce is directly related to the amount of food they consume. However, I would like to ask all of you to take a close look at your tribbles. See if you can find eyes, a mouth, an anus, or reproductive features and if you can identify their plane of symmetry."

The students poked and prodded at their tribbles for a while. Pike petted Spike absently as he strode around the room, snapping various students out of their trances. Kirk and Spock, trying not to touch each other's hands (Spock for entirely different reasons than Kirk), examined their tribble.

"It's just… fur," said Kirk, so close to the thing his nose was nearly touching it. "I can see some skin, but I swear to God, it's just a… a ball of fluff. That _purrs_."

They discussed the biological impossibility that tribbles represented for the rest of class. Uhura and Chekov were the most susceptible to the creatures' charms: Uhura barely spoke a word throughout the whole period, and Sulu had to constantly elbow Chekov to keep him cognizant.

History passed calmly enough. Kirk and Spock found themselves sitting next to each other again, since Uhura was talking to Chapel, who was shadowing Bones. The only moment of excitement came at the beginning of the class, when Ms. Tyvak announced that they were beginning Russian history and Chekov nearly had a heart attack.

Lunch was terrible. Uhura was welcomed back to the table with open arms. She tried to bring Kirk with her, but Kirk was still afraid of Bones's hateful glare, so he muttered something about needing to do homework and fled back to the library, where he found Spock in their old place in the 600s, reading the book on pharmacology.

Spock looked up to see Kirk backing away. "I will not continue to inquire as to your motivations behind your actions, since I am sure your reasoning would escape me," said Spock irritably. "Have a seat, James. I take it you are avoiding Leonard?"

"Yup. He's trying to curdle my soul or something. It's creepy. Also, understandable. How much do you know about what happened?"

"Very little. Only that you had sexual intercourse with Pavel and consumed methylphenylpropanimine before doing so."

"Methylphenylbutanimine, actually. Birch has three alkanes, not two."

"The variety of birch that is sold in California tends to have three alkanes, since it is produced in Canada, where the ingredients that make up the substance are slightly different than the ingredients used in the rest of the world."

"How do you _know_ that?"

Spock held up the book. "You were reading this earlier."

"Okay. Wow. You have, like, a photographic memory or something, don't you?" Kirk was quiet for a while. "Aren't you hungry?"

"I plan on consuming nourishment when I return to Lady T'Pau's residence after school."

"So, you're just going to skip lunch? Come on. We could go eat somewhere."

"James, we are not allowed off of school property during class hours."

"Well, yeah, but that's no fun. I'll just go grab a pass from Pike to work on the _Enterprise_ and we can leave through the garage. Come on, please come with me? I'm really craving a cheeseburger." Kirk fluttered his eyelashes at Spock, who was stayed strong.

"There are numerous flaws in this plan, namely, the fact that—"

"Spock. Lunch. Priorities. Get up, we're going to eat."

Spock rose to his feet, grumbling. "Allowing you to convince me to do unsafe, unlawful, and unwise things will not continue," he said adamantly.

"That's my talent, though. Hey, if not even Vulcans can resist my modest charms and handsome good looks, I could take over the galaxy."

Spock gave him a look that said, "Seriously?"

Kirk gave him a look back that said, "Seriously," and started humming _As Time Goes By._

"This is _not_ the beginning of a beautiful friendship, James," said Spock crisply.

"Oh my God, you get pop culture references?"

Spock ignored him. "I will have lunch with you as long as the restaurant we go to has an acceptable vegetarian menu," he said.

Kirk grinned. "I'll round up the usual suspects."

Spock's eyes said, "I might have to kill you." Kirk simply blew him a kiss.

x


	24. Chapter 24: The Cloud Minders

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Twenty-Four: The Cloud Minders_

x

Spock poked at his Caesar salad unenthusiastically.

"When I used the phrase 'acceptable vegetarian menu' earlier, were you confused by it?" he said irritably to Kirk. "This romaine resembles iceberg in taste and texture. And appearance. In fact, were I to do genetic testing, I would hypothesize that this lettuce were more closely related to cabbage, as the crisphead lettuces tend to be."

Seemingly unbothered by his mouthful of cheeseburger, Kirk said, "Fut up an' eat ur salad."

"James, the Caesar salad is traditionally constructed with not only romaine lettuce, which I have already determined this is not, but also with Worcestershire sauce, _parmesan_ cheese—not this unaged American product—and egg, among with numerous other lacking ingredients—"

Kirk swallowed his mouthful hastily and said, "Spock. Seriously. This is a burger joint. It's called the Greasy Keys. Of _course_ you're not going to get a decent anchovies-and-all Caesar here. I _asked_ if you wanted to go to Sprout's, but you got all passive-aggressive on me and said you wanted to go wherever I wanted to go, and hell, I wanted to go here, so, just eat it, okay? Or go get a hot dog or something." Spock's eyes lit up angrily when Kirk mentioned hot dogs. Kirk continued quickly, "Don't lecture me about hot dogs, either. They have veggie burgers here, too. Try one of those if the salad is grossing you out that badly."

Spock scowled at him for a moment (Kirk took an artlessly large bite of burger in the interim) and got up to trade his salad for a veggie burger.

"I never pegged you for a picky eater, you know," Kirk said when Spock had finally started on his own burger. "Just because you don't like meat doesn't mean you have to be insane."

Spock merely eyed him coolly over his lemonade.

"Hey, how come you're avoiding Nyota?" Kirk said.

Spock ruminated, taking time to chew and swallow before replying. "While Nyota and I parted on speaking terms, I deemed it prudent to spare her feelings by removing myself from her presence." Spock paused to take a sip of lemonade. "Also, Nyota is a rather scary woman."

Kirk nearly choked on his burger.

"She is forceful," Kirk agreed with a grin once he had recovered. "_I'd_ stay away from her after she broke up with me. She and Bones are cut from the same cloth, and I'm sure avoiding him."

"You should not," said Spock. "He is still your friend, as Nyota is mine. I plan on approaching her as usual tomorrow, after giving her time to… recover, I suppose."

"She might not recover for a while," said Kirk, "considering why she broke up with you in the first place. I'm sure Bones'll take quite some time. He wants to rip my balls off, probably."

"Surely that would be an extreme reaction?" said Spock, alarmed.

"Sarcasm not your strong point?"

"I simply found the concept feasible. Leonard has enough strength and temper to do what you suggest; the human testicles—"

"Oh my god, don't even _go_ there," said Kirk, flinching and crossing his legs.

Spock looked rather content at making Kirk react so visibly, and sipped his lemonade airily.

"I hate you," Kirk let him know.

"I am well aware," said Spock, almost sweetly. He watched as Kirk stuffed the last remnants of his burger into his mouth and scrubbed at his face with his napkin. He noticed, for some reason, that Kirk had very white teeth. Very _sharp_ white teeth. He tried not to wonder how they would feel on his flesh.

Kirk was still a bit fixated on Bones. He had really liked Bones. He certainly wouldn't go so far as to say he'd loved him, though. The man was certainly very passionate. Kirk let a bit of a shudder run through him. He would miss that. Maybe he could convince Bones to be a fuck buddy? But he didn't think their sex life would ever be quite the same, not after Kirk had handled all of that so badly. (Kirk didn't even think that it had been _Bones_ that had handled all of that so badly.)

"So, I've been wondering, how was sex with Nyota?" Kirk asked.

It was Spock's turn to nearly choke on his burger.

"_Excuse_ me?"

"She seems really spunky, but also terrifying, so I was just wondering what that combination was like." Kirk paused delicately. "In bed."

"James, I hardly think this is the place—"

"There _is_ a place?" Kirk was delighted.

Spock had never had anyone to talk to about things like this before. It occurred to him that what he was doing with Kirk was not something he had ever done. He was having a conversation with Kirk, a friendly, teasing one that had (not much) innuendo and wasn't centered around school.

"I suppose," said Spock stiffly.

"I knew I'd get you to open up," said Kirk. "You done with that? We should get back to school."

Spock finished off his veggie burger, found a timepiece, and nearly had a heart attack. "James! There are only seven minutes until the bell for fifth period rings!"

"Yeah, we've got time. Hey, you don't want—"

Spock grabbed Kirk's shirt collar and dragged him out of the diner. Kirk stumbled everywhere, trying to regain his balance. By the time they had reached the street, Kirk had extracted himself and was walking like a normal human being.

"Dude, it's cool, we've got _seven minutes_, like you said—"

"James, the school is located approximately one half-mile from our present location, and the distance we must travel within the school would return us—"

"It's fine," said Kirk soothingly. "I generally make it back in four minutes from here at a stride. It just seems like a half-mile, it's more like a fourth. Take some time to smell the roses, will you? Or look at the clouds. They're always soothing and fluffy. Or whatever."

Spock did not exactly trust Kirk, so he nearly jogged back to the school, but to his surprise they arrived quite on time. Kirk, quite unexpectedly, hugged him before heading off to military history. Spock tottered into his computer class, almost grinning. Kirk liked him! Sure, as a friend, but… _He likes me!_ Then he scowled mentally at himself and composed his emotions. He cracked his fingers and began to type: Perl would help calm him down.

In economics, which everybody had sixth period, Ms. Okogbo was late. Kirk sat down gingerly next to Sulu, who gazed impassively at him.

"Hey," said Kirk, offering him a smile.

"Hi," said Sulu. "I'm kind of mad at you."

"Yeah? Er, sorry. If it makes you feel any better, you could slap me."

Sulu considered this for a moment, then did so. It was a very hard slap. His palm hurt slightly.

"Mmm," sighed Sulu. "Theraputic."

Kirk straightened, wincing. Sulu grinned at him. "Now I'm not mad at you at all. I am concerned, though."

Kirk covered the red-mark on his cheek with his hand. "Man, fuck you, now _I'm_ mad at you. That hurt."

"I'm in fencing. Don't mess with me or I'll take the point-guard off my épée."

"I don't even know what that means and it scares me. Duly noted."

"So, why are you so dumb?" Sulu asked.

"What, with the thing last night?" Kirk shrugged. "That's how I am. At times I am simply not the sharpest. Plus, I don't have to tell you that Pavel is really hot."

Sulu gave him a look. Kirk flinched.

"I'm not going to hit you again," Sulu laughed. "I'm weirdly fine with this. Maybe because I have this crazy thing where I'm optimistic and know that one day, Pavel will look back on the sex he's had and think, 'You know, Hikaru's been the best. Not Jim. Jim was pretty crappy.'"

"Hey, okay, I am damn good in bed, I will have you know. Er, I'd tell you to ask Bones, but actually, him I wasn't great in bed with. You could ask Helen Noel, though. Or Janice Lester, although she also might hate me, though I'm not sure why. Also, Caroline McKenna, Joe Tormolen, Blayce Hawkins, Chiwetel Puri, or Dora Hannity. And, oh, what was his name… Daigh Olsen."

Sulu stared at him.

"Those are the people you've slept with this year? _Before_ Leo?"

"Yeah, before Leo."

"Wait, okay. I have so many questions. One, Caroline McKenna, um, how are you still alive? Because she scares _me_. And Chiwetel Puri, I thought he was completely heterosexual."

"With Caroline, well, I did fear for my life at a few points, definitely. That girl is tougher than a bed of nails. Chiwetel? People can surprise you."

"Clearly. God, that's—" Sulu added frantically. "You've had sex with ten people this year."

"Yup."

"How—why?"

"_Why_? Why _not_? You've had sex, haven't you? It's _amazing_." Kirk grinned salaciously. "I am a sexual creature, Hikaru. I cannot be contained."

"Or contain yourself, it seems."

Ms. Okogbo chose that moment to come back and proceeded to lecture them to death about elasticity, which Kirk (at least) already understood, so he mainly bothered Spock, who kept hissing at him to be quiet/stop poking him/quit messing with his hair.

Next period, Spock purposefully chose a seat as far from him as possible, so Kirk sat with Uhura, Chekov, Scotty, and Tony Giotto. Chekov was bright red around him and kept shooting him half-lustful, half-nervous looks. They gravitated towards each other in the hallway after class, Sulu watching carefully from his locker as they leaned against the outside wall of the chemistry labs.

"You are not interested in doing this again, are you?" Chekov asked Kirk. "Because, Jim, you are a wery attractive man."

"I know I am," sighed Kirk, as if the weight of the world were resting on his broad shoulders. "And Pavel, you are just—absurdly sexy. You have that 'jailbait' look going, you know?" Chekov laughed and fluttered his eyelashes. "And you are, wow. The thing you do with your pinky, that, um. Yeah. I enjoyed that."

"Did you? Good."

"Uh. Dammit, quit distracting me. What I'm trying to say is, I would feel bad about having more sex with you. For one, I sort of took advantage of you last night."

Chekov straightened angrily. "My mind was my own, Jim. I wanted you, so I had you."

Kirk smiled. "Good. I'm glad you feel that way. I have to say, my memories are kind of hazy, so I'm glad there wasn't any dubcon or anything."

Chekov looked confused. "Doob-khan? What is this word?"

"Forget it. The other thing I wanted to say was, I would feel bad pursuing a relationship with you because Hikaru has such a big crush on you."

Chekov went rather still. Frowning, he shifted his weight from the wall and stood up straighter, staring intently at Kirk.

"Hikaru has a crush on me?"

Kirk couldn't figure out exactly how to express his shock that Chekov was unaware of this. His you-really-couldn't-see-how-obvious-he-is-being "_yeah_" had so much emphasis and extended pronunciation of syllables that it stretched all the way back to Riverside, Iowa.

Chekov didn't believe it. "_Truly?_"

"Truly! Hikaru Sulu is head over heels in love with you, Pavel. Do they not teach social cues in Russia? Or did your Asperger's not get cured in the genetic sweep?"

"Nyet, I simply—" Chekov's face lit up and he gave a happy little squeak. "Jim, this is wonderful! I did not haf any idea that he—he likes me? He _likes_ me! Oh!" He covered his mouth in excitement, his eyes bright.

"Wait, you can't tell him I said anything," said Kirk frantically. "I have no idea if he wanted you to know. I mean, he's been really obvious—at least to those of us that aren't from the frozen north—but, you know, it's different if—see, I didn't know _you_ didn't know, I just thought you weren't interested or something—"

"Oh, I will be wery subtle," said Chekov, beaming like the sun.

"Kind of what I'm afraid of—" Kirk tried to say, but Chekov was off like a rocket, presumably after Sulu.

x

"So," said Uhura, studying her nails. "Leo is pissed."

Kirk sighed. He and Uhura were back at his house. It was right after school, only thirty minutes after Kirk had talked to Chekov. He munched a replicated Ruffle.

"Think I should try to talk to him today?" Kirk asked.

Uhura made a have-you-finally-gone-off-the-deep-end face.

"Tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah. Definitely tomorrow. He'll be less inclined to rip your balls off."

"Spock was talking about that."

"What?"

Kirk frowned. "I have no idea. Just, earlier, I mentioned that Bones was pissed enough to do as you have suggested to my manly bits and he started getting scientific about it and it was weird."

"Oh yeah. You two went to lunch." Uhura eyed him. "How was that?"

Kirk shrugged. "It was alright. He's weird."

"Pot. Kettle."

"I'm not weird! I'm very normal."

"You're very _crazy_. Do you _like_ him, or something?" Uhura looked a little suspicious.

Kirk laughed. "Are you kidding? _Spock?_ He's like—no. Not even. I mean, I could see us being friends. Totally different, Nyota. We hung out because we're both scared of you two."

"He's scared of me?" Uhura looked unhappy.

"No, sorry. Bad phrasing. He's not scared of you. He just thought he'd give you some time. Seems nice of him, to me. While I am scared of Bones, I think he is simply scared of alienating you. He does like you, you know."

"Oh, I know that," said Uhura distantly. "I wish—I don't know what I wish. This got so complicated and strange. I'm not doing any of this right. I love him _so_ much, but I can't—I can't be with him, because this can't be good—what I'm doing—" She stopped herself, visibly. She was trembling.

"Hey," said Kirk soothingly. "Hey. It's alright." He kissed her on the lips, gently, and she kissed him back, drawing strength from his body.

"Thanks," she sighed, shifting away. She smiled at him. "Maybe we can fuck later. In a week or two, I mean."

"That would be nice," he said sincerely. "It's good to be with somebody without strings."

"You would know, wouldn't you? How many people have you slept with this year?"

"I think about twenty. Since the beginning of the year."

"What? Hikaru said ten."

"Well, I only mentioned the people he knew. There were quite a few older folks. I take it you two gossiped during seventh. Hey, thank god they got rid of human STDs, huh?"

"Yeah, at least until the next one pops up. Remember what happened with bhazzoids, twenty years back? There are some guys that are still permanently disfigured. Anyway. Twenty people."

"Mmhm." Kirk frowned at her. "Maybe we shouldn't fuck."

"How come?" Uhura was curious, rather than offended.

"I don't know," said Kirk slowly. "I mean, you're really hot, but you definitely just seem like someone who's nice to hang with, rather than… anything else. Is it okay that I don't view you as a sexual object?"

"I am not sure if I should feel insulted or relieved. For one, it's _you_, and don't you view _everything _as a sexual object? And yet, it's good that I'm not just lumped with every_thing_ else. I guess."

"Man, I don't even know," said Kirk. "You're just easy to talk to. That's it."

Uhura slugged him in the arm. "Exactly. Whatever works."

x

A week later, Spock ran his left hand over the hull of the _Enterprise_ as Kirk watched him. They had started talking a little more, but not a markedly high amount. They had both gone back to their table the next day, and while Bones was still shunning Kirk, Uhura and Spock were talking again, if rather stiffly.

"James, I have something important to ask of you," said Spock seriously. Kirk tugged himself out of his reverie and nodded, wondering what this could be about.

"For the past week, I have been considering the situation I find myself in as it pertains to the hovercar competition. Since I believe Nero to be responsible for the death of my mother, even though the police can find no evidence of his complicity other than circumstantial timing and situations, I do not believe that I am fit to race against him. I would attempt, illogically and irrationally, to harm him during the course of the race. Thus, I would like to formally give you the helm of the _Enterprise_."

Spock said all of this rationally and coolly. His tone did not change even when he mentioned Amanda's death. Kirk was still a bit discomfited by how cold Spock could seem, and this actually scared him slightly, especially since Spock was basically admitting that he did not believe he could keep control of himself in a certain situation.

"Are you sure?" said Kirk carefully. "I can't lie—I would love to be the pilot. But it's your job, it always has been. She's your ship."

"Montgomery was her architect and all of the members of the hovercar club helped to assemble her. She is not my ship. I simply pilot her."

"No, she's yours," Kirk insisted. "You two have been through so much. Spock, you can keep yourself in line. Don't give this up."

"I must," said Spock firmly. "Please do not argue, James. You are an able pilot. I watched you during the practice runs we did on Wednesday and established that you deserve the distinction of vice president. I shall remove myself from the chain of command."

"Wait, you can't back out entirely!" cried Kirk, leaning forwards. He was on the other side of the hovercar from Spock, and he pushed himself across the nose of the _Enterprise_ to grab Spock's hand. "Stay with her, please. Stay with us. God, stay with _me_, since you still have to train me on all of the controls."

Spock stared down at Kirk, sprawled as he was across the gurian hull.

"Why are you so interested in retaining me?" Spock asked.

"You're useful," said Kirk. "You're smart. And you have to be involved in this, because for you—for Amanda—I will take Nero down."

"Simply defeating him in a competition—"

"I will find a way," Kirk promised. He slid off the front of the _Enterprise_ and stood in front of Spock. "You don't mess with people's families," Kirk said softly. "People who do make me madder than anything. Family is sacred, and he went much too far."

Spock simply gave Kirk the Vulcan salute in thanks.

x

When Kirk told Chekov that Sulu had a crush on him, Chekov had thought that the mere knowledge would make everything better. He had run off to find Sulu, but the boy had just left for home. So Chekov waited until the next day to make his move.

Only to find that he was curiously unable to make said move.

Chekov had never been as nervous as he was around Sulu before in his life. Things only got worse as the days wore on: initially, he could continue to pretend that everything was as it always had been. Recently, however, he had taken to interacting with an increasingly distressed Sulu through mere blushes and stammers.

Things came to a head when they had to go to the library together during sixth to get a few stacks of books for Ms. Okogbo. Chekov did his best to talk to Sulu—he really did. But he couldn't get out more than a few muttered sentences. Finally Sulu cornered him in the physics section and demanded to know what was up.

"I thought we were friends, Pavel," Sulu said, hurt heavy in his voice. "But for this past week you've been like a skittish cat around me. I'm not going to hurt you, you know—for being with Kirk. I told you, you can fuck whoever you want, it's fine with me."

"Oh," said Chekov, letting out a breath of relief and latching onto the misunderstanding. "Good, Hikaru. I am glad that you are not mad at me about Kirk. I thought you would be, and that is why I was trying to awoid you." The words tumbled quickly out of his mouth, and Sulu looked a bit taken aback, but nevertheless convinced.

"Well. Good," said Sulu. He looked into Chekov's eyes. "I missed you," he said sincerely. "Pavel, you're so great to be around. Not to mention, you help quite a lot in physics, and that's what I've wanted to ask you for this past week except you were busy avoiding me—can you tutor me? In physics?"

Chekov was surprised. "Hikaru, you are good at physics. Your equations are orderly and you understand the math."

"I'm just _okay_ at physics," said Sulu. "I'm worried about the AP test. It's supposed to be harder than the class, you know—no matter how carefully Pike prepares us, the test is going to be this scary combination of everything and I feel like I already don't remember stuff from the beginning of the year."

"Of course I can help you," said Chekov soothingly. "Hikaru, you haf a gift for flying, but you are not too good at the memory, are you?"

Sulu sighed. "I can be forgetful, yes."

"Well," said Chekov, shoving his courage to the forefront. "I can certainly help you to remember."

With that, he trailed a hand carelessly over Sulu's chest, evoking a sharp, hastily muffled gasp, and ducked out of Sulu's way. They took the books to Ms. Okogbo in a rather astricted silence.

x

Pike mentioned to Kirk during fourth period the next day that Bones was working on the _Enterprise_ alone down in the shop, and Kirk, impulsively, asked if he could join him.

Pike was a smart man, and he knew people. He knew that Kirk and Bones were not on the best of terms. But he figured that meant that they would be more likely to actually work than something else high schoolers were apt to do. So, Kirk got a hall pass transferred to his ID and walked carefully down to the shop.

He stuck ins head in the door and saw Bones immediately, sprawled underneath the hovercar's flat cushion. Kirk steeled himself and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Bones called carelessly.

Kirk took a few small steps forwards, restraining the urge to run. "Hey," he said hesitantly.

Bones threw himself out from under the car. He sat up, glaring at Kirk. His hair was tousled heavily and he was wearing a grease-covered wifebeater and cutoff jean shorts. Kirk felt a familiar tug in his heart. He _missed_ Bones.

"What is it?" Bones snapped.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," said Kirk, trying to sound quiet and reasonable. "I mean, since I'm the pilot, I thought I would come check on how the repairs were going."

"They're goin' well, _Captain Kirk_," said Bones harshly. "They'd go better if you'd fuck off."

"Please be civil," said Kirk pleadingly.

"You know, I think I'll be however the hell I wanna be," growled McCoy. "You were the one who up'n cheated on me."

"Bones, this isn't about us. It really is about the _Enterprise_. Can't we just talk, like we used to? I miss that."

"I miss bein' respected, Jim." Bones sat back down and pulled himself under the _Enterprise_. "Go the fuck back to class. I really don't want anythin' to do with you ever again."

Kirk left, his breathing shallow. His eyes looked empty for the rest of the day.

x


	25. Chapter 25: Patterns of Force

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Twenty-Five: Patterns of Force_

x

Bones straightened his tie and checked his breath surreptitiously. It had been nearly two weeks since Kirk and Bones had broken up, but Bones was still thinking of things to say to Kirk. He wanted to email him about where he was, and the way it looked. He glanced warily around him, taking in the swank decorations. Bones stood outside of a Summer-era apartment in Haight-Ashbury, the unofficial residence of Barda and Ezar.

To Bones's total shock, Barda herself came to the door. She towered over him at nearly six and a half feet, seeming even larger than she was in the news. She was beautiful, with waist-length black hair done into four long braids and rich, dark skin. Her black eyes gleamed at him in welcome under her immaculate, upcurved brows. She did not seem nearly as severe as most Vulcans did, and she did not look a day over thirty.

"Mr. McCoy," she said, her voice sweet, if cool. "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Please, come in."

"Thanks," said Bones gruffly, shuffling inside. He had dressed as nicely as he could, in a collared shirt, slacks, and the same cobalt jacket he had worn to homecoming. But Barda, who was wearing a simple, post-modern gray silk sheath dress, outclassed him entirely, seemingly without even trying. Bones did not think he had ever seen an adult Vulcan in anything but ceremonial robes, much less an evening gown that was clearly of human design, and it flummoxed him a bit.

"Nice to meet you too," he managed after a bit, smiling weakly at her. "How is the baby doin'?"

"He is quite well," said Barda, motioning Bones down a short hallway and into a smallish, empty sitting room. "We have named him Akaar." She pronounced the name as three syllables, _Ak-a-ar_. "My husband is with him now and will be downstairs to meet you in a moment." She graced him with an extremely slight smile. "We are both eager to thank you for your help with the delivery of our child. Dr. Eleen, though she is an experienced surrogate, could not have known of the affects of a Romulan-Vulcan child on her body. Medical science is as yet unsure how to treat such a person, although we hope that they will soon become well-versed in the care of such _ulefkan_."

"Excuse me?" said Bones quickly. "_Ulefkan_?"

"In Vulcan_, ulef_ means 'half' and _kan_ means 'child.' These are what we call the children of two worlds, be they part human, Romulan, Klingon, or any other species. Our Akaar is truly a _rekhukan_, a 'third child,' since the blood of three species runs in his veins."

"You're right about medical science not bein' sure what to do about kids like Akaar," said Bones frankly. "I would have loved to have more information when I was tryin' to deliver him. For one, he was a breech birth, which was hard enough without his genetics comin' into play."

"Once more, we thank you for your efforts," said Barda. She perked her ears. "Ah—here is my husband now."

The door to the sitting room opened and a man as tall as Barda entered. He had a strikingly harsh face with high cheekbones and a ridged, alien forehead. His hair was longish, brushing his shoulders, and was more markedly wild than Barda's organzed braids. He too was wearing human clothing—a collared shirt and tie with slacks, all in shades of crimson and gray. Ezar, the Romulan Consul, had a broad smile on his lips.

"Leonard McCoy," he boomed, striding forwards, "it is nice to meet you." He shook Bones's right hand heartily. Bones thought he was disarmingly cheerful for a Romulan. The crook of Ezar's left arm was occupied by a mailbox-sized bundle wrapped in soft black cloth. Ezar held it out to Bones, who took it carefully, peering between the folds to catch a glimpse of a dimple-cheeked child.

"Hello, Akaar," Bones whispered. He studied the baby. There were tiny, barely noticeable ridges already forming on Akaar's forehead. The light dusting of hair that made up his eyebrows turned upwards slightly, and his teeth—Vulcan and Romulan infants were born with a child's set—were flat.

"He's beautiful," he said to Barda and Ezar, who positively beamed at each other, although Barda's beam was more like a slight widening of the eyes and upturn of the lips. Evidently new parents were the same everywhere.

Bones was there for a congratulatory dinner, which was a mix of human, Vulcan, and Romulan dishes, all of which were delicious. The apartment was aesthetic and tasteful, made over in a distinctly human Beaux-Arts style, with strange little flourishes of the Vulcan Tveshu mode and Romulan paintings and sculptures. It was not their official residence: the Vulcan embassy was a large compound headed by T'Pau's house, at which Spock currently lived, on Van Ness Avenue, near the Civic Center; and the Romulan embassy was a small building on Market in the same area.

Bones had never spoken much with Romulans. They generally kept to themselves, and only a few went to Enterprise; most attended Pride, since they lived in the expensive Tenderloin neighborhood, which had undergone an extreme makeover as soon as the Romulans, finding that they liked the feel of the place, had started moving into San Francisco.

Ezar was like no Romulan Bones had ever met. He was gentle and kind, and he seemed very open to new ideas, even though Romulans were known for being xenophobic, belligerent, and haughtily traditional. Ezar was the son of a powerful Romulan family. His upbringing had been no different from most Romulans, but he had traveled to Earth early in his life and fallen in love with its peoples and cultures. He went to college at the Kismayo University in Somalia, one of the best in the world, and after graduating returned to Romulus to rise quickly through the political system to become the consul. Even though he embraced unpopular ideas and supported joining the Federation, Ezar was well-liked amongst his most of his people.

Barda and Ezar emphasized that they owed Bones more than they could repay him for helping to save the life of their child. They told him to request any favor and they would give it.

He thanked them for dinner and left, feeling full and important and happy to be alive. He wrote an email to Kirk about his night but did not send it, feeling the sour hatred surge back when he thought about Kirk for too long. Instead he messaged Chapel to ask her if she wanted to play tennis with him tomorrow, and stayed up longer than he thought he would waiting for a reply.

x

Spock was in the backyard of the Vulcan embassy, in the ceremonial garden, reading a book with I-Chaya's head resting on his lap, when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, closing the book as he did so. I-Chaya whined as Spock's leg disappeared from under his chin.

"Greetings, Spock," said a soft voice in Vulcan. Spock saw who the speaker was and nearly gasped.

"Greetings," replied Spock, hardly able to believe his eyes. The boy standing a few meters away from him was like something from ancient history. "What brings you to Earth, Stonn?" Spock inquired of the boy, trying to keep the shock out of his voice.

"My mother and father have been assigned jobs at the embassy here," Stonn said. He was a little taller than Spock, with big ears and a rather flat face. His visage was unassuming, but he had a thick, muscular body.

"I see," said Spock delicately. "As you know, my father is the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth. Will your family reside on this planet for long?"

"I do not know," said Stonn. "We think—"

"Spock!" they both heard Sarek call. "Are you there? There is someone I wanted to—ah." Sarek rounded a cut-hedge and saw the two of them next to each other. "I see you have already encountered Stonn. Greetings, Stonn," Sarek added to the boy. "Spock, I wished to make you aware of certain other arrivals." Spock noted a subtle expression of pleasure flit across Sarek's face. "Lady T'Pau thought that you would benefit from the renewed attentions of Vulcans your own age. Idris has arrived, bringing his daughter."

It took most of Spock's self-restraint not to let his jaw drop. "Idris?" he said politely. "I was unaware that his position at the Vulcan Science Academy allowed him to leave Vulcan for long periods of time."

"Idris did not wish to leave his daughter. He has gone on sabbatical from the Academy in order to finish his textbook on psionics, and to act once more as my personal assistant."

"Then Idris and his daughter are here now?" said Spock, trying not to emphasize the 'now.'

"Yes," said Sarek, watching Spock closely.

"Fascinating," said Spock, rather weakly. He turned to Stonn. "You have also arrived recently?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Would you like a tour of the compound?"

"That would be pleasant," said Stonn.

Spock extended his arm to Stonn, who took it, and hurried Stonn away from Sarek, who looked positively crafty.

Strangely, Spock was not unhappy to see Stonn, even though he had spent a majority of his childhood being bullied by him. Stonn had become much nicer in the year before Spock had moved to Earth and they had actually started being something like friends.

"Idris has a daughter named T'Pria, does he not?" Stonn asked lightly.

"Yes," said Spock. He hesitated then said, "Idris has two daughters. The daughter of whom my father and I spoke is named T'Pring."

"Ah," said Stonn, glancing at Spock. "I have heard very much about T'Pring, but I have never met her. We just missed each other in school."

"I have not seen her since I moved to Earth," said Spock.

"You have not communicated?" Stonn asked curiously. "I spoke with Ridya almost every day, until she died."

Spock remembered that Ridya was Stonn's betrothed. "I am sorry for your loss," said Spock. "I had not heard that Ridya had died. When did this occur?"

"Two years ago," said Stonn. There was a note of sadness in his voice. "We were very close."

Spock touched Stonn's arm in a gesture of sympathy.

They explored the compound, ducking in and out of kitchens, living rooms, hallways, meeting rooms, and dining rooms. Stonn lived with his family near the back of the compound, quite far away from Sarek's lush apartments at the front. Spock and Stonn were just leaving his and Sarek's rooms when he heard another voice call his name. He turned towards it, and saw _her_.

"Greetings, T'Pring," he said.

Her look was almost bashful. "Spock," she said, giving him the formal Vulcan salute.

T'Pring was the same age as Spock. She had large, liquid eyes and shining hair that was piled on the top of her head in braids. She looked younger than he expected her to, as well, as if she really was fresh from his memory, still thirteen, the same as when he last saw her.

"Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched," he recited formally. She replied in kind. Stonn, Spock noticed, was staring almost rudely at T'Pring. As soon as her attention turned to Stonn, though, he lowered the intensity of his gaze.

"My friend Stonn, son of Storik, son of Soark," said Spock, introducing them. "My _ko-kugalsu_, my betrothed, T'Pring, daughter of T'Pral, daughter of T'Prio."

T'Pring and Stonn saluted, Stonn bashfully. He seemed enamored of T'Pring already. Spock felt his hackles raise a bit, if only in automatic disapproval, not real jealousy.

Spock escorted them around the compound, telling them about life on Earth and conversing as Vulcan teenagers generally did, which was mainly about politics, science, and philosophy, with a bit of subtle gossip thrown in as a side dish. Spock discovered that Melor, one of his primary tormentors from his years on Vulcan, had developed a bad case of pl'hakar lagashi, a disease that rendered its victim unable to speak coherently, and that T'Pera, another bully, had recently been rejected from the Vulcan Science Academy.

Spock tried to ask about the people he liked and the people he disliked equally, but he wasn't fooling either T'Pring or Stonn. They told him about all of the bad things that had happened to the people that had bullied him and the good things that had happened to the people that had not. Too soon—because, strange as it was, he was actually having a good time with his peers—it was time for dinner.

Dinner at the Vulcan compound was an important event. T'Pau resided over the large room on a dais with Sarek, Spock, and other high-ranking officials and their children. Idris, T'Pring's father, a tall, proud man with spiky, gray-streaked hair, sat next to Sarek. Since T'Pau was on Sarek's other side, Spock settled down next to Idris, with T'Pring beside him. Stonn's family was relegated to a lower table.

"Greetings, Spock," said Idris. Spock had always been worried about having him as a father-in-law. He had been Sarek's personal assistant ever since Spock could remember. He was famous for being tough and determined, even in the harshest of circumstances. Sarek had been an important council member before accepting a position as Ambassador to Earth and Idris had always been at his side, helping to plow through the red tape and political machinations. As a sign of how much Idris meant to their family, Sarek and Amanda had pledged Spock's hand to T'Pring when the two were seven years old, the traditional age at which Vulcans entered into arranged marriages.

"Greetings, Idris," Spock said. "I am pleased that you are once more assisting my father."

They talked about Idris's administrative duties for the first few courses. Spock was surprised that Idris didn't intimidate him more. It was beginning to occur to him that either all of the people he had once known had changed, or he had. It both disturbed and pleased him to think that he might have indeed been the one to change.

After dinner, Spock retreated to the garden. He tried to hide himself amongst the blooming carmel hydrangeas, but T'Pring discovered him and pulled him into the r'qhas square near the secondary fountains—pulled him out into the open.

The sun was nearly set and the small fairy-lights dusted about the garden had only just flickered on. T'Pring looked up at Spock nervously, and he saw that she _was_ different than what he remembered. She was fuller, somehow, as if she had grown into herself. The same inner hardness and cutting manner was there, as well a ladylike subtlety and charm.

"I have not spoken to you for years, Spock," she said. "How is your life on Earth?"

"My life is pleasant," said Spock, speaking almost too quickly. They sat down on a marble bench framed by an ivied arch and a sundrop bush. "What of yours?"

"Enjoyable, such as it may be," she replied. She hesitated visibly, then said, "I am aware that it is customary for young Vulcans to be uninhibited by their marriage bond if they do not feel an emotional obligation to it, but I—I cannot help but—" She paused helplessly.

Spock did not know what she was trying to say. "You can tell me," he said, touching her clothed shoulder lightly.

"I have been in a number of relationships," she continued, "and I have consummated a few of them. My question is, have you, as well?"

"Ah," said Spock, relieved that this was what she was asking. "Yes. I have been in three relationships, one of which I have consummated. You felt guilt over your actions?"

"No," she said coolly, her manner shifting. "I felt an obligation to you."

He had forgotten how incredibly logical she was, even more so, at times, than other Vulcans, although the mood came and went.

"Your obligation does not manifest until my first pon farr," he said. "We both know that this will probably not occur until my thirties, due to my… hybrid genetics."

"I am aware," said T'Pring stiffly, drawing herself up. "We have never discussed this, however, and I wished to clarify the point." She kept her haughty shell, but looked at him with a bit more pity. "The Vulcan males of your age will begin to enter pon farr soon."

"I am sorry to leave you behind," he said. "Perhaps, if you wish, our marriage agreement could be renegotiated."

"That is an unnecessarily complicated step, for now," she said. "The advantage of becoming your wife is significant."

"As is the advantage of becoming your husband."

They watched each other, and for a pure moment, Spock did not trust T'Pring at all. The feeling dissipated quickly, to be replaced the general distant fondness he felt for her. She saluted him and took her leave, abandoning him amongst the night-blooming sundrops.

x

Uhura, Sulu, Scotty, and Chapel were hanging out at Chapel's house after school.

Chapel stuck her tongue out at her reflection, wrinkling her nose. Then she paused, frowning at the mirror.

"Maybe I should get my tongue pierced," she said thoughtfully.

"Like Gaila?" said Scotty, perking up immediately from behind his _Quantum Mechanical Engineering_ magazine.

"Or not, if all the reaction I'd get is, 'Gaila has a tongue piercing too!'"

"Well, she does, 'tis a bit hard t' ignore."

"Ignore? Why would you want to _ignore_ it?" said Uhura. She had her left hand wrapped tightly around Sulu's wrist. She had a bottle of clear nail polish out and was holding the brush dangerously close to Sulu's pointer.

"Quit torturing me and just paint them already," snapped Sulu.

"You should learn to do that yourself," Chapel commented, grabbing a hair tie from her dresser and starting on braids.

"Or I could just let all of my female friends do it for me. I've always been really bad at painting my nails."

"Me too," said Scotty sympathetically. "'Tis a male thing, ah think. Give it a couple thousand years t' work into our genes, ah say."

A door slammed distantly.

"That's my mom," said Chapel. "I'll be right back, you guys." She hiked up her skirt and tossed herself down the stairs.

"Hey mom," said Christine perkily, walking into the kitchen. Heather Chapel glanced over at her daughter. She was putting groceries away into the tall cabinets around the room.

"Christine," she said lightly. "How was your day?"

"Pretty good," said Christine, reaching into the fridge to grab a carrot. She gnawed on it noisily and hopped onto the counter. "How was work?"

"Interesting. I received an email from the school about your recent absence in physics."

Christine froze mid-chew. "Uh. Really?"

"Yes. Would you care to explain?" Heather fixed Christine with an incredibly intimidating mom-stare.

"Um, Caroline was having some, some, problems?"

"Caroline McKenna?"

"Yeah, so, me and Helen, uh, Noel, you remember her from my birthday party last year? Well. Anyway. We were, counseling her? Cuz she was having, like I said, some problems."

"Of an entirely non-sexual nature, I'm sure."

Christine couldn't help but grin. "No comment."

"My dear, if you skip class, you must do so for _legitimate_ reasons. An impromptu threesome is not one of them."

"For the record, it wasn't impromptu." Christine paused. "Er, not that it was a threesome."

Heather sighed. "In any case, I am going to see your physics teacher tomorrow. What is his name again? Dike? Rike?"

"Pike."

"Yes, Mr. Pike—" Heather paused too, and looked swiftly up at her daughter. "What is his first name, again?"

"Christopher," said Christine slowly. "Why, mom?"

Heather blinked a few times. "You haven't mentioned him to me before, have you?"

"No, can't say I have… Do you know him?"

"It is possible that we served in Starfleet at around the same time," said Heather. "Well. How fascinating." She gave Christine a disarmingly brilliant smile. "Who've you got in your room?"

"Hikaru, Monty, and Nyota."

"No foursomes while I'm in the house, okay?"

Christine made a horrible face. "Oh my God, yes, mom. Sorry I ever came down to say 'hi' to you."

Heather pinched her cheek ironically. "You're such a good daughter."

"I hate you."

"Dinner at six thirty, understood?"

"'Kay."

Christine hopped off the counter and took the stairs two and three at a time.

"I think my mom knows Pike," she said to the room at large as she swept through the door. "Can anybody pull up their Starfleet stats? Do a side-by-side or something?"

Scotty reached for his PADD. "Ah can access my civilian Starfleet account; they let th' average citizen hack some of th' lower security stuff."

"Would you mind?"

"Not at all, lassie." Scotty tapped for a bit. "Pike captained a smaller battleship for a while, afore bein' promoted to chief of security on th' _Kelvin_. She was his first officer durin' that time."

"For how long?"

"Twenty months."

Chapel whistled. "Fascinating indeed."

x

"Oh my God," said Kirk. "It is _hot_." He tore off his jacket and was considering taking his shirt off when he glanced at Winona and saw her glare.

"Come on," she said. "It's barely thirty-five Celsius."

"It's more like _forty_. I'm going to melt."

"If you don't quit complaining I'll call whine-one-one," she chided, grinning. The whine-one-one thing was a joke she used to tell him in his childhood.

They smiled at each other and were quiet. It was Friday afternoon and they had just gotten off of a San Francisco-to-Austin transport that they had boarded as soon as school was out for the day. They were staying with Sam and Aurelan for the weekend. Aurelan claimed that she was starting to gain weight, but Jim, over the video feed, couldn't tell a difference.

Sam showed up in a few minutes, hugging each of them tightly. They took a hover-bus back to Sam and Aurelan's apartment. Jim mostly complained more about the weather and Sam, between Jim's vocalizations, pointed out landmarks. Jim paused to stare at the capitol building as they turned onto 11th Street from Congress.

"It's a sad urban legend that the Texas Capitol is the tallest in the nation," said Sam. "But it _is_ the biggest."

"We should go in, some time," said Jim firmly. "Do you live near here?"

"About five minutes away," said Sam. "Seems farther as the crow flies. But the Austin transportation system is marvelous."

Sam and Aurelan lived in Hyde Park, near the university, in a small, two-bedroom duplex. Aurelan greeted them cheerfully, hugging Jim tightly and bustling their bags into the bedroom. Jim would be sleeping on the couch, which he didn't mind; he hated bunking with his mother.

Taking refuge in the bathroom, Jim fired off an email each to Uhura, Spock, and Sulu, who he had been bonding with during intense _Enterprise _repair sessions.

He also wrote about five emails to Bones and ended up deleting all of them.

Sam and Jim made dinner. Really, what happened was that Sam grilled the steak and directed Jim to peel and mash potatoes, warm up Brussels sprouts, and bake garlic bread. Jim did a majority of the legwork, but Sam was ultimately responsible for the taste, which was pretty damn good. They ate quickly, saving most of the talk for dessert.

"I got a job at Gothos," Jim provided over the dewberry cobbler Aurelan had been kind enough to whip up for them. "Network… legwork, I guess." He shoveled an ice-cream heavy bite of cobbler into his mouth and chewed enthusiastically.

"Impressive," said Sam, raising his eyebrows. "How'd you manage it?"

"Shut down a rogue robot on the assembly floor. The upper management was suitably impressed. You think I'm kidding." Jim shuddered heavily. "The IT guy couldn't believe we were in high school."

"You always were good with electronics," said Sam. "I remember you wiring up the motherboard on dad's car at the ripe old age of eight."

"I loved that car," said Jim distantly.

Winona looked like she wanted to say something along the lines of, "If you loved it so much, why the hell did you drive it off a cliff," but they had been over that a thousand times before, and it brought back too many painful memories. Instead she scooped some more of Amy's best vanilla ice cream out of its recycled container and onto her cobbler.

"She was a beauty," Sam agreed. "Heard you got yourself a motorcycle. Killed any bystanders yet?"

"Working on it, I assure you. Hey, speaking of driving, I got promoted to presidency of my hovercar club. Means I get to be the pilot."

"You? Drive the hover they've been working on for half a year now?" said Sam, highly skeptical. "How the hell did that happen?"

"President stepped down. Slight conflict of interest; our rival's pilot probably killed his mom."

Sam's eyebrows went haywire. Jim explained the situation, tossing in a few bonus stories about how insane Spock was.

"Spock sounds like a great guy," said Sam, tossing a knowing glance at Winona, who winked back at him.

"He's a regular _Venus de Milo_, stone personality and all," finished Jim, who hadn't caught the exchange between his mother and brother.

"Nice boobs, huh?" chuckled Sam.

"Well, maybe not _those_, but the abs, sure," laughed Kirk.

They played a few games of Parcheesi and looked through old photo albums for the rest of the night. Aurelan went to bed around midnight and Jim fell asleep on the couch a little after one. He woke up thirty minutes later to find that somebody had tucked a blanket over him and turned off the lights. On the way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, he saw that the kitchen light was on. He heard soft voices from inside the room and padded silently towards the door.

"… seems to be doing pretty well," Winona was saying.

"That's good." Sam's voice. "And he's dating that Leonard guy? I remember him. He drove me insane, used to make me wash my hands every single time I passed the bathroom. I always wanted Jim to have Gary Mitchell over more often."

"Well, they broke up, actually. Jim won't say why." There was a shifting noise and the slight brush of skin on skin. When Winona next spoke, her voice was muffled; she must have been covering her mouth. "It went like all of his relationships have. Fine for a while, and then, out of nowhere, they're apart."

"You talked to him about it?"

"Of course not. I tried, but he—I don't know." Winona sounded despairing. Jim pressed himself closer to the wall, his hands beginning to sweat around his toothbrush and soap. "He makes himself all distant about these things, you know?"

"I know," said Sam.

There was a bit more quiet. Jim considered moving on, but something compelled him to stay.

"How is Frank?" Sam said in a near-whisper. "I hate to ask, but…"

"_Christ_," Winona said, just as soft, but with a bite in her tone. "He's the same. He's just the same."

"No change in prognosis?"

"None."

"They're not—they're not planning on charging Jim with—?"

"Of course not," said Winona sharply, distinctly louder than she had been. "They wouldn't dare. The DA has said he can put Frank away for umpteen life sentences if he ever recovers."

"Keep it down. The house has thin walls."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Has he been seeing a psych?"

"Every week, for an hour. And social services drops by once a month to check up on things. I always feel like such scum around them. I know they blame me for it. Hell, I blame me for it. I'm sure _he_ blames me for it, as well."

"I'm sure he doesn't," said Sam comfortingly. "Jim's not that kind of guy."

"He—he blamed _you_."

"Of course he did. I abandoned him."

"So did I. It was worse of me, Sam. I'm his fucking _mother_. I should have been there."

"The pay was better off planet, mom, that's why you left, and you couldn't know. You just thought we were two little gremlins you happened to love. You couldn't have known."

"I could have. I should have. Frank was—Sam, you know what he was doing."

"I do," Sam said, like it hurt to admit it. "I was there. He beat me too, you know."

"Christ," Winona repeated. "Sam."

"Mom, it's okay. Hush. I'm fine."

"But Jim—"

Sam sighed. "I know."

They were quiet.

"Do you think he's okay?" said Winona, and the wavering note in her voice scared Jim.

"I don't know," said Sam. The words sounded like they hurt him. "He probably isn't, mom. Why the hell would he be?"

"He's so strong. I just think, sometimes, that it washed over him."

"I don't think it did. That old saying about rock and water, you know. Everything gets eroded."

Jim had heard enough. He glided to the bathroom and scrubbed at his teeth and face. He stared into the mirror for a moment after raising his head from the basin. The skin of his face was bright red and his teeth glistened. He felt of his chapped lips with one finger, then looked away, not wanting to meet his own eyes.

There were four emails on his PADD, one from Uhura, one from Sulu, two from Spock, and none from Bones. He read the ones from Spock but did not reply. He stowed his things and went back outside. The light in the kitchen was off.

He fell asleep quickly, and did not dream.

x

_Austinites, I am aware that in order to get to Hyde Park from Austin-Bergstrom you totally don't have to pass the Capitol. They were taking the downtown scenic route, I'm sure._


	26. Chapter 26: The Empath

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Twenty-Six: The Empath_

x

This is the bitterest pain among men; to have much knowledge but no power.

—Herodotus

x

This is the way society works in the early 23rd century.

The older generation, the ones born in the late 22nd century and earlier, are as a rule conservative, although if anybody from the early 22nd century took a look at the conservative platform of the early 23rd century they would quickly develop aneurisms from shock, since all liberalism morphs into conservatism after a time. (The law marches ever onwards, ignoring politics.) Just as slaves were freed in the 1700 and 1800s, complete suffrage was granted to of-age citizens in the 1900s, marriage and freedom to worship was legalized for all citizens in the 2000s, and the medical revolution, wherein reproductive rights were finalized, occurred in the 2100s, the acceptance by society of deviancy is the civil rights movement of the 2200s.

The societal and sexual revolution of the 2000s that began with the Bell Riots was suppressed mid-cry in the uproar over Zefram Cochrane's warp drive and the subsequent first contact with the Vulcans, the first alien race the humans encountered. The treatment of humans as bodies that bleed, degenerate, and nurture is the rediscovered cause of this age. Pyong Ko discovered, at the end of the 21st century, the genetic sequences that inhibited the growth of cancer cells, and breakthrough after breakthrough occured for a full century afterwards. By the early 23rd century, humans are living well into their hundreds—but not happily _and_ legally.

Deviancy: derivation from the norm. The norm is considered passé in pop culture, now, and even if it is not yet legal to have deconstructive surgery done on you and your spouse so that both of you walk in the same legs but still speak with different mouths, it will be legal, soon, once the old folks figure out that dominatrixes have been around since the Sumerians (an eye-opening site in the ancient city of Lagash was hidden from the world until the early 2000s) and take all of the "bed laws" (as the laws that limit the scope of human sexuality are called) off the books. In essence, deviancy is degage.

Which is why, as far as youthful society is concerned, Bones is in the right for shunning Kirk.

You do not insult deviancy, sexual or otherwise (though it is generally sexual deviancy that people are talking about), in the early 23rd century, just as starting in the 20th century you did not say the n-word, and in the 21st, the f-word ("fag," not "fuck"). It is politically correct, by now, to assume that everybody has their little (or big) kinks and quirks, and even though most people are still discomfited by what they enjoy, they are nevertheless allowed to enjoy these things with a minimal of ribbing and joking. The artless holdouts insisting on man-on-top missionary are regarded as products of the stone age (despite these holdouts being the leaders of the older generation; fashion is controlled by the young, and the young are _always_ right) and generally ignored or pandered sarcastically to.

The exact nature of Bones's complaint with Kirk had yet to be established by their mutual friends. The only reason nobody was being rude to Kirk was because, according to Sulu, there was Something Going On with Kirk that nobody could quite figure out how to question him about, so everybody simply Did Not Deal With It, like typical teenagers were wont to do.

Still, they all had a vague idea of what was going on. It was common knowledge that Bones and Jocelyn had broken up because she had turned out to be a sexually uncooperative asshole, and it was beginning to look like the same thing had happened in Kirk and Bones's relationship. This surprised everybody somewhat: since Kirk was already known as being promiscuous, everybody assumed that he was _not _vanilla, and could in fact be categorized as chocolate strawberry caramel ribbon, with sprinkles and cookie dough (aka, as far from vanilla as you could get). Which could not be further from the truth.

Thankfully, there were other things going on at Enterprise High. Namely, the upcoming third race.

x

The _Enterprise _was beginning to be finished. The hoverclub worked less and drank more (at least when Pike wasn't around to corral them). Uhura accidentally poured Scotty's prized bourbon into the intake valve after Scotty had hidden the stuff in a canister of cetelium-seven, necessitating a week-long total overhaul that nearly caused Pike to exile Scotty to Delta Vega. Other than that, the progress made on the hovercar had been purely positive.

Scotty finally fed the hovercar's data into the school flight simulator for a test drive. Kirk, the new pilot, buckled himself in while Spock, possessing a hovering vidscreen like a ghost taking metaphysical control of a moth, circled his head impatiently.

The _Enterprise_ blew up about thirty seconds into the sim.

Scotty sighed. Sulu looked impressed despite himself. They exchanged looks, one exasperated, the other amused.

Kirk stumbled out of the simulator with Spock's calm/frantic voice ringing in his ear, trying to clear his vision, which consisted mainly of sparkling stars.

"Do they have to make the explosions so realistic?" he asked Sulu, rubbing his eyes.

"Definitely," said Sulu confidently. "So shit like that doesn't happen on the real race track."

Spock was as incoherent as Spock would ever be.

"_What_," he said, shaping the word carefully with his throat and lips before ejecting it into the air, "were you doing?"

"Um?" offered Kirk worriedly, drawing back against the simulator. Spock loomed over him.

"All of the simulations you have run before this date have been—" Spock searched for a word.

"Normal? Good?"

"_Sane_," said Spock, almost pleadingly. "If I may inquire—what _was_ that?"

"What?" said Kirk innocently. "I barely tapped that other hover. The _Enterprise_ really shouldn't have exploded. Clearly the b-line is off. Scotty, you should get on that."

Scotty tried to reply, but Spock steamrollered him.

"You—barely tapped that other hover?" Spock shook his head hopelessly. "That is the absolute least of what you did in the simulator. Could you hear me attempting to communicate with you?"

"I gotta admit, I muted you after your comment about my acceleration speed."

"That was at the beginning of the simulation!"

"Yeah, well, you were distracting me."

"Distracting—! _James_. It is imperative that you understand that you are not allowed, on the track, to drive the _Enterprise_ in the same manner as you have just demonstrated. Behavior such as you have exhibited would result unequivocally in the termination of your life."

"Only if we don't move the b-lines."

Scotty stepped in to prevent Kirk's certain death, since a disturbingly still expression was settling over Spock's face.

"Jim, maybe you could just try again, without th' theatrics this time?" said Scotty.

"Alright," Kirk shrugged.

Spock made a _harrumph_ sort of noise and clicked on his vidscreen as Kirk climbed back into the simulator.

On the second sim, Kirk lasted a full three minutes before swerving between two very large hovers and being squashed like overripe fruit against their hulls.

"At least I didn't explode," said Kirk reasonably while Scotty reset the sim. "The seat ejected me. There was minimal death. No death at all, that is to say, which is how it should be."

Spock was busy covering his eyes with his hand despairingly and did not reply.

"We've got quite a while before the next race," Kirk continued optimistically. "Well, if you classify 'quite a while' as 'a week.' It's not like I can't drive a hover. I did real life practice runs in the _Enterprise_ four times last month, you know."

"I am considering requesting that Mr. Pike reinstate me as president," said Spock through gritted teeth.

"Hey, you said yourself that it would be better for me to pilot," said Kirk. "Nero, remember?"

"Believe me, I am continually reminding myself," said Spock. "However, it is not helping. You need to be safe, James. And more importantly, you need to not destroy the hovercar."

"Ah like your priorities, Spock," said Scotty. "Up for a third go, Jim?"

"Hell yes," said Kirk. He patted Spock on the cheek. "I'll drive careful, alright?"

Spock did not look particularly mollified by Kirk's reassurance. Sulu attempted to contain his giggles.

On the third sim, Kirk lasted the entire race—but came in thirtieth out of thirty-six.

"Look," said Kirk frankly to Spock, getting out of the simulator. "You've got two choices here. Either let me drive the way I always do and suffer the consequences, or force me to drive safely and risk not qualifying for the next round."

"I am requesting reinstatement from Mr. Pike," said Spock, fixing Kirk with a pointed glare.

"Good luck with that," said Kirk coyly. "I'll be in the sim, alright? Let me know how it goes."

Spock prowled off to Pike's room, where Pike turned down the request point blank.

"Spock, I was going to give the _Enterprise_ to Jim even if you didn't, so I'm glad you did," said Pike, leaning tiredly over his desk. He had been in the middle of grading their homework from last night before Spock interrupted him. "You just can't go up against Nero in a race. I trust you more than any of my students, but nobody can trust emotions, and I know! I _know_ you're half-Vulcan, but you've got to be almost incoherently angry at Nero. I'd be."

"You are human," said Spock shortly.

"Yes, but like I said, accidents happen, and I don't want you arrested on 'manslaughter' charges. This race is too good an opportunity for a smart kid like you to pass up."

Spock knew that they were both right. He stomped back to the simulator to see Kirk stepping out of it again.

"He turned you down, huh?" said Kirk, reading Spock's lack of expression immediately. "I've gone twice more since you left. Blew up the fourth round—not my fault; that wall came out of nowhere. Finished in second for the fifth round, but I think I broke a few laws of physics."

"You cannot change the laws of physics," Spock told him, answering Kirk's initial question by not answering it.

"That's what ah said," said Scotty in conspiratorial and rather alarmed aside to Spock. "But actually, ah think he might have, take a look at these readouts…"

Kirk kicked at the sim's hull while Spock spluttered over Kirk's improbable stats. Sulu wandered over to him.

"How's Leonard?" he asked.

Kirk made a face.

"Thought so," said Sulu sagely. "Have you tried to talk to him?"

"Of course I have," said Kirk. He looked like a kicked puppy. "He hates me. And he's allowed. I did nothing right. I insulted him and I cheated on him."

Sulu frowned. "I'd try to reassure you by saying that none of this is your fault, but it sounds like it is."

"Yeah. It is." Kirk frowned at the simulator. "How come you're not the pilot?" he said. "I thought you were going into Starfleet to drive space ships."

"I am," said Sulu, not minding the subject change. "I'm an amazing pilot, actually. But I don't do well in hovers. I started playing my sister's flying sim when I was three, and I didn't even know there was a 2-D mode until I was nine. I'm really used to three-dimensional piloting, so realistically I'm probably about as good as you on the hover. And you're pretty good, except, you know, insane."

"I am not insane!"

"Oh, no, you're definitely insane. I was watching you over Spock's shoulder. Quit trying to give him a heart attack, by the way. I know he's fun to mess with but I've seen him nerve pinch people for less."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He's scary."

"No shit."

Spock and Scotty eventually gave up on understanding Kirk's driving. Kirk got consistently better ("Less fuckin' deranged, at least," said Scotty, while Spock nodded in almost eager agreement) at driving the hover without dying, destroying something, or failing to qualify. Pike let him take the actual _Enterprise_ out for a spin three times before the race. On each occasion, Kirk managed to destroy some small yet crucial part of the ship, but since he was so helpful in repairing it, Scotty never became particularly angry at him. (Although Spock did.)

The Thursday before the race, Chapel got up from latching in a panel, backed up, wiped her forehead on her sleeve, and stared at the hover.

"Guys," she said distinctly. "I think it's done."

Kirk, Spock, and Scotty were there. They all turned around from the blueprints they had been arguing over to stare at the _Enterprise_.

"She's bonnie," said Scotty softly. Spock glanced at Kirk, who was completely entranced by the hovercar.

"She is," said Kirk wonderingly. "I'd never realized."

Chapel watched from under her eyelashes as Spock took advantage of Kirk's distraction to rake his eyes over Kirk's form. Kirk looked exhausted: he and Spock had been working on the _Enterprise_ non-stop for the past month. She didn't know how their grades had stayed high; she had nearly gotten a B on a med quiz the other day because she had been helping them out so much. The skin under Kirk's eyes was dark and stood out against his unusual paleness. His thin white t-shirt was greasy and his blue jeans were so faded they were almost white. He seemed extremely young, she thought, and so vulnerable, tired as he was.

"You should continue home so that you may rest yourself," said Spock, putting a hand lightly on Kirk's shoulder. Spock felt Kirk's shoulders relax, falling out of tension at his touch. He studied the line of Kirk's neck; the way his mastoid muscles framed the hollow of his throat, and the glossy sweat resting on his collarbones.

"I'm okay," said Kirk absently, slipping out from under Spock's hand and walking towards the _Enterprise_. He ran a hand far across her hull.

"She could do with a bit of cleanin'," said Scotty, poking his head into the cockpit and reading a screen, "but other than that, she's pure dead brilliant."

"I can wipe it down," said Chapel, rubbing her hands on a rag and thinking she might never understand boys and their obsession with things that went fast. She was in the hoverclub for the social aspect, and also because she liked manual labor for some ungodly reason.

"Nay, lass, 'tis th' pilot's job," said Scotty. He winked at Chapel and nodded to Spock, who seemed mesmerized by Kirk. "Ah'll be goin', now," he said, grabbing his bag and heading for the door. "See the two of you tomorrow."

"Yeah, bye," added Chapel, snatching her backpack. She hooked her arm through Scotty's as they passed through the door, grinning at each other.

Kirk was silent for five minutes. He walked around the entire _Enterprise_, inspecting every rivulet and seam, while Spock stared at Kirk's back.

"Driving the _Enterprise_ is a serious job," Spock said at last, into the stillness. His words echoed around the room and reverberated off the hover, resonant into Kirk's ears. Kirk looked up at him, expecting distrust or sternness. Instead, Spock's expression was almost kind. His eyes were wider than usual, so that his words became more open and sincere. "Do you think you are capable of performing the job admirably?" he asked.

Kirk looked from the _Enterprise_ to Spock, considering the question with unexpected gravitas. He waited a moment to answer, composing the reply in his mind.

"I may still treat the race differently than you would," he said to Spock. "But it's important that you understand how heavily the responsibility weighs on me. It means something significant that Pike thought to promote me, and that you don't hate me too much as your replacement." Kirk leaned with ease against the hovercar, positively exuding confidence. "I'll win," he said. "I swear it."

"That is exactly what I wished to hear," said Spock, and if Kirk didn't know better, he would swear that the corners of Spock's mouth turned up a little in a smile.

x

The third race was in Sacramento, late on a Saturday evening, which meant that Pike got them a hotel for Saturday night. Everybody took the news about the hotel in their own distinct ways: Kirk winked cheekily at Chapel, who giggled, and Bones glared at the two of them. Spock was impassive, Sulu and Chekov missed each other's appraising looks, Uhura grinned, and Scotty just kept eating his sandwich.

"Should be an interesting weekend," said Uhura, waggling her eyebrows at Chapel as they boarded the bus Saturday noon. "Any plans for seduction?"

"Yup," said Chapel, producing a box of premium Andorian chocolates and tossing them to Uhura. "You."

Uhura blinked at the chocolates, then at Chapel. She had paused in the middle of the transport to do the blinking. Chapel beamed at her.

"We have a room to ourselves all night," said Chapel matter-of-factly. "You interested?"

"_Yes_," said Uhura earnestly, snapping open the box of chocolates and popping one into her mouth. "I haven't had sex in _ages_. I mean, it's been weeks."

"I have to admit, I have ulterior motives," said Chapel conspiratorially. "I get to tease Leo with the image of us going at it."

"Tease me with what, now?" said Bones from behind Chapel. She turned around to find him looming over her, his bag slung over his back and his usual grumpy expression plastered over his face.

"With the idea of Nyota and I alone in a strange, scary hotel room all on our own tonight," simpered Chapel. "We might be forced to take comfort in each other."

Bones turned pink. "That'd be a damned shame," he muttered, dumping his bag into the storage bin and grabbing the nearest seat.

"What, us taking comfort in each other?" said Uhura, immediately offended.

"No, you two bein' alone," said Bones distinctly. He blinked owlishly at the two of them. "Really, if y'all need any, uh, help, I'm a good friend—I can sacrifice my sleep to reassure you." He coughed. "With sex."

"You're too sweet," said Chapel, patting Bones's cheek fondly. "You'd do that for us?"

"I would," said Bones solemnly. "Scout's honor."

"Weren't you and Jim in Boy Scouts, when you were kids?" said Chapel, trying to remember.

Bones let out a sharp laugh. "Listen, Chris, Jim Kirk was many things, but he was _never_ a Boy Scout."

Chapel grinned. "Sorry I brought him up," she said, not sounding like she was.

Bones shrugged. "It's alright. I'm just ignorin' his physical existence right now."

"I see. Plan on speaking to him any time soon?"

"Nope. Don't see why I'd need to ever exchange words with him again," said Bones.

Chapel automatically glanced to the front of the bus. Sulu and Chekov were just getting on, followed by Scotty. Spock was already seated in the back of the transport—he had arrived first, of course. Kirk was nowhere to be seen.

"He's late," said Chapel.

"It'd be a damned shame if he didn't come," said Bones nastily.

"You could at least pretend to be concerned," chided Chapel. "I mean, if Jim's not here, Hikaru will have to drive."

"Hey," said Sulu indignantly from the front. "I'm an awesome pilot."

"Yeah, but you're not as creative as Kirk," said Chapel.

"That's a _good_ thing?" said Sulu incredulously. "I thought we wanted to win, not die in a fire. Or something equally horrible. Did you _see_ Jim's sim stats?"

"Yeah, what was up with the fifth one? I thought force equaled mass times acceleration."

Scotty, who had just sat down next to Bones, shuddered. "Ah think a wormhole waltzed through th' system durin' th' fifth sim," he said. "'Tis th' only way ah can explain it."

"I looked the stats ower, and they made my mind hurt," Chekov piped up. "When Jim gets here, we will ask him how he has done such a thing, since such a thing cannot generally be done."

Pike stuck his head into the transport. "Everybody in?"

"James has yet to arrive, sir," called Spock.

"Really?" said Pike, puzzled. "Weird. One of you call him, okay?"

"On it," said Sulu, whipping out his communicator. Spock and Uhura, who had been reaching for their comms, were surprised.

"You two are friends, now?" said Uhura as the number dialed.

"We see eye to eye on certain issues," said Sulu. He glanced up to see where Chekov was and whispered, "Mainly I want to know how he got into Pavel's pants so fast." His communicator buzzed as a voice on the other end said, "Hello?"

"Oh, hey, Jim. Where are you?"

"On my way. Sorry. Tell Pike I'll be there in two minutes."

Pike shrugged at the news and went back outside to make sure the _Enterprise_ was secure on its holder for the eighth time. Kirk barreled into the parking lot minutes later, screeching to a halt on his motorcycle and jogging over to the transport. He gave everybody a casual wave from the front of the vehicle, made his way to the back, and crashed down next to Spock.

"Dude," he said, in greeting.

"James," said Spock politely. "You are late."

"Yup. Family matters," said Kirk, heaving his bag into the storage bin. "Aurelan lost her job."

"Aurelan?"

"My brother Sam's girlfriend. She's pregnant. They live in Austin," said Kirk succinctly. "Aurelan's a rad-lab tech, and her supervisor didn't want any lawsuits over deformed babies."

"I thought that terminating employment based on gravid status was illegal in the Federation," said Spock.

"It is," said Kirk. "For one, she didn't really like the job that much, and for another, it's not like they have enough money to sue. Anyway, they're moving here in about a month. Just in time for Thanksgiving. You'd like Sam, he turned out to be a bit of a biology geek."

"What is his age?"

"He's twenty-one. Four years older than me. I think Aurelean's twenty, maybe nineteen? They're both too young to get married. But I think Sam is planning on asking her."

"The child she is carrying—it is his?"

"Yeah." Kirk gazed out the window. Pike had just started the transport and was pulling out of the parking lot. "Do you have any siblings?"

Spock hesitated. "Yes," he said finally. "A half brother. I have not seen him since I was very young."

There was something in his tone of voice that made Kirk end the line of questioning there.

The hoverclub ended up playing Do, Marry, or Kill on the way to Sacramento, which was interesting, to say the least. The game consisted of one of them coming up with three different people—for instance, Scotty provided three powerful Federation politicians: Natira Yonada (the stubborn human President of the Federation), Barda (the calm Vulcan Vice President), and Shahna (a Tirat and famously belligerent Justice)—and having the others decide which of the three they would have sex with, spend the rest of their lives with, or get rid of.

It became a joke that Kirk had his answers ready immediately ("Shahna, Barda, Yonada, no question."), Uhura thought about hers for ridiculously long amounts of time ("Okay, _okay_, Yonada, Barda, Shahna. God, guys, don't rush me."), McCoy had strange tastes ("Barda, Yonada, Shahna." "You'd _marry_ Yonada?" "Yeah, what of it?"), and Spock all but refused to play ("Although I am averse to killing any—" "Get on with it!" "I simply wanted to state that the termination of a life simply because—" "Oh my God, we're going to terminate _your_ life. Who did you choose?" "I selected Justice Shahna as a potential 'one-night stand,' as you would say, and Vice President Barda as my partner in marriage. President Yonada—regrettably—is fated to die." "You are _so_ melodramatic.").

They arrived in Sacramento for a long, late lunch and unloaded the hovercar at the Sac State racetrack hours before it was necessary. Kirk took the _Enterprise_ around the smaller practice track a few times. Scotty made last-minute adjustments and showed everybody the screen he had built for the ground crew to watch. It showed all of the readouts Kirk could see in the cockpit on a largish, portable PADD.

The other hoverclubs started trickling in at around six. The race began at eight and would be lit by cool floodlights illuminating the long, winding track. The Sacramento State track was not as hilly and woody as the UC Riverside one, nor was it as straight-and-narrow as the UCLA course. The track was artificially difficult: it was the first race to be held on concrete (the others has been on closely-mown grass) and was famously curvy, with a short width—only four to five hovers across where the others had been eight to ten—and a notorious wind tunnel near the end that tended to buffer even professional hovercar drivers into each other.

For a while, Kirk and Spock watched the other hoverclubs line up and check out their vehicles. Spock left before Kirk had even noticed that the Pride High club was unloading their hover at a bay nearby. He came back fifteen minutes later, once Pride had disappeared off to their section, and took up his old place next to Kirk. He was expressionless, but his knuckles were white around the rail he leaned against.

"You wouldn't mind if I accidentally killed Nero today, would you?" said Kirk lightly, watching Spock's hands.

"That is not the case," said Spock, attempting composure. "I would mind greatly that I would not be able to do the deed myself."

"Alright," said Kirk pleasantly. "I'll save him for you. Sound good?"

"Wonderful," said Spock. He spotted a thick golden ship surrounded by a large group of students. "That is the _Lexington_," he told Kirk. "You need to watch out for her. She placed first in the first race and third in the second. The _Stewart_, also—that long blue craft, with the silver thrusters—and the _Negh'Var_, the Klingon ship—they are worthy opponents. The _Constellation_ can be alarmingly unpredictable at times, but that should not bother you unduly."

Kirk laughed. "I think they'll find _me_ alarmingly unpredictable at times, wouldn't you agree?"

"I would hazard to say so, yes," said Spock, with the slightest of smiles.

When the time came for the pilots to move their hovers to the starting line, only Bones did not come to wish Kirk luck. They—Kirk and Bones—had been doing a good job of avoiding one another during the past couple of hours. Kirk mainly talked with Spock, Sulu, and Chekov, while Bones kept to Uhura, Chapel, and Scotty. Everyone was keenly aware of the conflict; it was palpable, at times, especially when Kirk talked to Bones or Bones was forced to communicate with Kirk. Occasionally, in the past few weeks, they had found themselves working on the same part of the hover. Bones would do so for as long as he could tolerate, never more than a few minutes, before switching to another task. He would give Kirk the tools or parts Kirk asked for wordlessly and would never ask Kirk for anything. Bones had not initiated conversation between them a single time since the breakup.

Pike wished Kirk luck and went off to see Dr. Eleen, apologizing that he would not be present for the start of the race. Kirk slapped (almost) everybody's hands through the window of the _Enterprise_ until he came to Spock, who was last. He held out his hand almost eagerly to Spock, the sleeves of his flight jacket loose around his wrist. Spock did not raise his own hand. There was a severe frown pasted across his face.

"What?" said Kirk, sounding downtrodden—not to mention rather petulant—and lowering his hand. "What'd I do?"

"Nothing yet," said Spock sternly. "I wish to remind you, James, to be safe above all else."

"For you?" said Kirk, cheerful again. "Anything. It looks like we're getting to know each other, Spock."

"Indeed," said Spock softly.

Kirk rolled up the window, giving Spock a hearty thumbs-up. Spock wished, for a moment, that he had kissed Kirk on the cheek. Instead, he backed away, hands behind his back, and watched as Kirk drove to the starting line.

x

_Here goes nothing_, thought Kirk as the announcer called go.

He hit the accelerator harder than he normally did in his excitement and felt something _pop_.

_Well, fuck_, he thought, and then _OW_, as his restraints closed tightly around him, pinching and squeezing him everywhere.

Back at the viewing area, Scotty dropped the PADD.

Spock, who had taken over communications from Uhura simply because he did not trust Kirk, immediately spoke into his mike as Scotty fumbled on the floor for the PADD. "Base to _Enterprise_. Are you reading this?"

"Yup," said Kirk shortly. His voice sounded strained, even in the single syllable. "It's all good."

"All good—James, we need to affect repair."

"You know that's not possible," said Kirk tightly. "I'm alright. A little sore, but okay. Shit, I'm getting mown down out here. Mike silence, okay? Just let me concentrate."

"James—" Spock protested, but Kirk had cut the line.

"You can get him on the emergency frequency," said Uhura, wide-eyed beside Spock.

"We will save that for later," said Spock. He turned sharply to Scotty. "How did this happen?"

"Ah have no idea," said Scotty sadly, gazing at the PADD with hangdog eyes. "But Jim's right—this isn't somethin' we can fix."

What had happened was pretty bad. The driver's seats in all of the hovercars were equipped with ejection packs in case of an accident. According to the rules of the competition, it was illegal to operate a hovercar in a race without an ejector seat. Kirk's seat had, of course, come unmoored under him in his rapid acceleration to six hundred miles per hour, rendering the ejector part of the seat useless. He was slightly crushed by the restraints wrapped around him, but otherwise uninjured and able to drive.

There were thirty-six hovercars in the third race. The cutoff point for the next round was twenty-fourth place, and Kirk was flying at twentieth. After his huge initial acceleration, Kirk had been forced to drop back some as he shifted around in his suddenly unsteady seat and hastily checked out the rest of the stats.

However, the _Enterprise_ was perfectly functional, aside from its brand-new safety flaw. In fact, the _Enterprise_ was more functional than she had ever been. The first iteration of the _Enterprise_, although complete, was not as fast or maneuverable as the second version, which had not been finished in time for the second race. But now, the _Enterprise _was perfect, speedy and strong. She was absolutely one of the best hovers in the field.

Kirk realized this, and the gleeful expression that swept across his face would have terrified Spock if he could have seen it. Recklessly he pressed the accelerator, surging into fifteenth place.

x

"Well, what do we do?" Bones demanded of Spock. "You want to report this, don't you? But you know that if we go to the officials, we'll have to forfeit."

"You are choosing to take James's side?" said Spock, surprised.

"I worked on that goddamn hovercar as long as all of y'all did," said Bones angrily, motioning to the still hoverclub, who were watching the discussion with wide-eyes. "I want us to win, no matter what."

"As do I, but I do not wish for James to die attempting to win," said Spock calmly. "The logical action at this point is to report the occurrence to the racing officials. We will be disqualified, yes. But James could lose his life flying without the ejector seat. The sooner we go to the officials, the sooner we can get him off of the track."

"Are you out of your Vulcan mind?" Bones demanded sharply. "If Jim thinks he can do it, he can. No matter what I think of him right now, I know he's a damn good pilot. _You_ can fly the _Enterprise_ to a win when she's half-broken, sure, but he can take best advantage of her speed and handling. He can get us _first_ _place_ in this race, Spock. He can set us up square for the next round." Bones paused significantly. "He can beat Nero," he continued. "He's got the heart for it, and the reflexes. You might not realize this yet, but very occasionally, Jim Kirk takes somethin' seriously, and when he does, he does it right."

Spock eyed Bones. "Do you trust him?" he asked.

"Not even as far as he could throw me," said Bones. "But that doesn't mean he'll screw us over." He paused. "That might have been a bad choice of words," he added with black humor.

Uhura let out a nervous little giggle.

"Let me put it this way," continued Bones in a final sort of tone. "That kid doesn't know how to lose. Just isn't in his DNA. Back home we have a saying: 'If you're gonna ride in the Kentucky Derby, don't leave your prize stallion in the stable.'"

"A curious metaphor," said Spock, raising his eyebrow. "But apt." He let his expression fall, looking almost defeated. "I will allow this," he sighed. "In fact, I will facilitate it. However, let it be known that I do not approve." He held out his hand wordlessly to Scotty, who handed him the stat-screen PADD. "I will need a screwdriver, three PADDs on the local network, and Pavel," he said to the room. "Nyota, would you take the communicator? And, when Mr. Pike returns, please do not inform him of what has occurred."

Bones actually smiled at him. "So you do break the rules."

"I have no comment on the matter," Spock said imperiously, settling down on the floor as Chapel and Sulu handed him the PADDs. Chekov, clutching one of Scotty's spare screwdrivers, sat beside him.

"What are we doing?" Chekov asked curiously.

"Nothing illegal," said Spock, opening the back of one of the PADDs. He added quietly, "I think."

x

Kirk was in heaven. The _Enterprise_ obeyed his every command smoothly and simply, gliding through the other hovers like a snake across wet leaves. The speed gripped him. The closeness of the other ships made his adrenaline spike ten tines a minute as he danced through the pack, rising and falling in the ranks. He was not simply driving, like Spock had, but _flying_. He searched not for an advantageous spot in the lineup, but for an interesting one. The hovers around were cautious, but not annoyingly so. He waved happily at their pilots as he passed them.

The _Enterprise_ ate up the track, reaching the top ten a quarter of the way through the race. The _Lexington_ and the _Defiant_ were battling for first and second. The _Narada_ hovered in the top five, surging viciously towards any hover that came too close. Nero was increasingly irritated by the _Constellation_, which kept switching lanes indecisively, cutting the _Narada_ off.

Kirk watched, feeling his stomach go cold, as the _Narada_ swooped in front of the _Constellation_ and fired its back thrusters, effectively braking in the middle of the track. The pilot of the _Constellation_ whipped her ship around and barely missed smashing into the _Narada_. She swerved instead into the _Stewart_, destroying both hovercars instantly. The pilots were ejected into the atmosphere, free of the debris. Kirk twisted the wheel, avoiding the wreckage easily. A piece of wing hit the _Voyager_, a slower ship that stayed back in the races yet placed well, but did not disable it.

A slow rage flowed over Kirk. Nero had just taken out two of the best hovers in the competition simply because he was annoyed.

"This may not be the time," said a dispassionate voice over the emergency frequency, "but I wanted to tell you that there is no pressure on you to finish this race. You could be hurt, or killed, and none of us want that to happen."

"That you, Spock?" said Kirk, knowing how cold his own tone was. "I'm fine. I've got this." He curled his hands around the thrusters, pressing the engines hard. "I'm going to prove a goddamn point by beating that piece of shit. He can't mess with people like that. He can't bully them—he can't bully us."

There was no reply.

Kirk swept up the course until he was parallel to the _Narada_, his place flashing constantly between fourth and fifth on the screens. Nero ignored him—the _Narada_ stayed on track. Kirk stared over at the spiky ship, wishing he could see into its cockpit, but the sharp tentacles around the central structure obstructed all view into the craft.

They stayed like that, in alternating fourth and fifth, until the tail end of the race, right before the wind tunnel. Kirk and Nero made their moves at the same time.

Kirk knew he had to get ahead of everybody before the ships hit the wind tunnel, which might buffet them into each other. He swooped around the _Negh'Var_, listening as its engines roared angrily. The _Lexington_ moved into the middle of the aisle, trying to block him, but Kirk feinted to one side, drawing the _Lexington_ to the left, before darting through the opening near the wall on the right. The _Defiant_ was on the other side of the _Lexington_, and further back, which meant that the _Enterprise_ was in first.

The _Narada_ barreled down the track. Kirk watched in his back mirrors as it ate up the ground, surging past the _Negh'Var_ so close that they tapped fuselages. The pilot of the _Negh'Var_ tried to fly aggressively, but the _Narada_ lashed out at it, its side-spikes coming within inches of the _Negh'Var_'s comparatively fragile semi-steel siding. The _Negh'Var_ backed off and the _Narada_ dashed forwards. Then, as one, the pack turned into the wind tunnel.

The wind tunnel was an accidental obstacle created by the half-pipe nature of the course and the decorative wire structure overhead. The Sacramento winds, generally calm, rushed over a toxic combination of ridges until they hit the edge of the racetrack and swept inwards, wreaking about forty seconds of pure havoc on the drivers inside of the tunnel.

The _Enterprise_ growled under Kirk, the controls twitching. Swearing, Kirk shoved the hover forwards, dropping his speed so that he would have more control and trying to steer in a straight line. It was nearly impossible. The _Lexington_, which was heavier than the _Enterprise_, snuck past, reclaiming first, and the _Narada_, which seemed almost unaffected by the winds because of its unique design, followed the _Lexington_, taking second place from the _Enterprise_.

The walls of the half-pipe curved down and disappeared as the regular track reestablished itself. The _Enterprise_ stopped twisting around and Kirk sped up again frantically, but the _Lexington_ was too far forward. The finish line was in sight.

James Kirk was nothing if not innovative. The _Lexington_ was unbeatable: it would place first again, and there was no way to get in front of it. But the _Narada_ was tantalizingly close to the _Enterprise_, and there was something Kirk could do about that.

Kirk reached underneath the controls and unplugged two cords. The _Enterprise_'s secondary engine, a lanthanoid magnet surrounded by pivoting iron bands, fueled the interior electronics that were not particularly useful to the actual movement of the vehicle. It was this engine that Kirk cut off. The lights and screens in the cockpit went dead.

Kirk accelerated as smoothly as he could towards the _Narada_, unnerved by the sudden silence in the cockpit. All of his nonessential systems were offline. He had not realized how comforting the echoing beeps of his instruments were.

The lanthanoid magnet had stopped spinning by this point. Kirk prayed that his gamble had worked and fumbled under the controls for another set of wires, which he managed to spark together with one hand.

The magnet reactivated, tugging at all of the nearby heavy metal. The archanite shield surrounding the _Enterprise_'s primary engine protected the cobalt and iron within it, and the gurian alloy that made up the ship's hull was impervious to magnetic attraction. But the _Narada_, wrought from iron and copper, did not stand a chance against the powerful magnet. The Pride High ship slowed as it was pulled inexorably towards the _Enterprise_, which sped up.

Kirk took a long, beautiful moment to imagine Nero's expression as the _Enterprise_ approached the _Narada_ at a collision course. Mere seconds before the two ships collided, Kirk plugged in the secondary engine, resetting the magnet. The _Enterprise_ sprung forward as it was released from the magnet's pull.

Nero fought to accelerate, but it was too late. The _Enterprise_ crossed the finish line scant seconds after the _Lexington_ and just a moment before the _Narada_.

x

"Sorry I took so long," Pike panted, bursting into the observation room. He stopped when he saw everybody staring at him. "What is going on?"

"James is being reckless," said Spock dryly from the floor. "And we are worried. All is as usual."

Pike glanced around the room. Everybody had looked quickly away from him and back at the race, which they were watching from a small complex built a few meters above the track. He frowned, suspicious.

"What are you two doing?" he demanded of Spock and Chekov, who had four good-sized PADDs open before them and were tinkering with the insides.

"The screen that Scotty made for us to watch the statistics for the _Enterprise_—it broke," said Chekov sadly, holding up the blank PADD. "Spock and I are trying to fix it."

"Ah," said Pike, relaxing a bit. "Okay then." He crossed to the window, searching for the pack of hovers out on the track. "How is Jim doing?"

"Not half bad," said Scotty. "High up there, but not past the _Narada_. They're about to go into the wind tunnel."

The hoverclub watched as Kirk passed and then fell behind the _Narada_. The room was absolutely quiet. Spock felt in his bones the need to go over and watch the race, but he kept himself occupied by the PADDs, nudging Chekov whenever he, as well, got too distracted by the race.

Just before Kirk deactivated the second engine, Spock turned one of the PADDs on. Chekov activated another, and Spock typed a code into it. They watched as a screen loaded, then disappeared, then loaded again.

"Done," said Chekov guilelessly, switching that PADD off and picking up Scotty's viewscreen. "Just in time for the finish."

Spock cleared away the remnants of his rulebreaking as Kirk barreled across the finish line in second place.

x

Kirk climbed out of the _Enterprise_, ran a hand sweetly across her brow, and stalked over to where the _Narada_ was parked.

"Nero," he said coolly, coming to a halt a few meters from the spectral hovercraft. Nero, clad as usual in black, stood with his arms crossed next to the _Narada_, watching Kirk approach. His dark eyes were narrowed dangerously.

"Jim," said Nero, his tone almost light. "How are you?"

"Not well, thanks," said Kirk. "That was a bitch move back there, blowing up the _Constellation _and the _Stewart_."

"Whereas your blatant cheating will not go unpunished," said Nero casually. He inspected his long fingernails. Kirk thought he looked effectively threatening in his leather flightsuit.

"You will find that nowhere in the rules does it say anything about magnetic interference with another craft," said Kirk. "Though they might be amending that."

"I should think so," said Nero. He uncrossed his arms and straightened, becoming markedly taller as his spine uncurved. His brows narrowed, emphasizing the sharp black tattoos scattered around his weathered face. "You will hear me, Jim," he said in a dire voice. "I will allow this incident with the magnet to pass, simply because you were revenging yourself upon me for the sake of your friend Spock. We have both qualified for the next round, which is what matters. But during the next round, if you try anything, I will take action against you."

Kirk smiled, thin and dangerous. "Bitch," he said, "please."

Nero's face went still. He was about to reply when a few members of his hoverclub rushed up to him and started talking, their alien faces twisting in foreign, unknowable expressions. Kirk backed away. Nero watched him go, a mad glint in his eyes.

Uhura and Chapel were the first ones to the _Enterprise_. They let out twin screams when they saw Kirk and threw their arms around him, hugging him and congratulating him. He laughed, the tension easing from him immediately, and hugged them back. Scotty and Chekov hugged him too, and Spock and Pike clapped him between the shoulder blades. Bones hung back, but he shot Kirk a very small smile, although he scowled heavily afterwards.

"You did a good job," said Pike, and Kirk would never admit it to anybody, but he felt his heart swell at Pike's words. "That was a great race. Now let's go make sure they don't disqualify you for that magnet incident."

"They won't," said Kirk, grinning. "I'll be fine." As he was saying that, something absolutely terrible occurred to him. He felt the prideful bubble inside him burst abruptly. He excused himself from Pike and hurried over to Spock.

"The seat," Kirk said desperately, grabbing Spock's arm. "We have to submit the electronic log after the race. They'll see that the ejector seat wasn't online during the race. I didn't even _think_ of that."

"I did," said Spock smoothly. "I accessed the log during the race and rewrote it. The seat will register as being operative, and we will not be disqualified."

Kirk gaped at him.

"Did you _really?_"

"Yes, Pavel and I did."

Kirk shook his head slowly, a grin spreading over his face. "Going back in the log? Changing the stats? That's cheating."

Spock acknowledged this with an almost shy nod. "A trick I learned from a new friend," he said.

x

Christopher Pike was an intelligent man. He understood how people worked and was good at playing their personalities against each other. But he had been having a hard time with people today. Or, at least, Julie Eleen, who he still wanted to throttle to death rather than speak to.

He had felt obligated to go see how she was, especially since they had parted on such good terms last time, although that could have been because the drugs they gave mothers after particularly difficult births were famously high in selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors. Actually, he quickly established that the reason they had parted on such good terms was, indeed, the SSRIs. They had a quick shouting-match in front of the judges' stand (shocking the rest of the track officials) about the same thing as ever—Eleen's behavior with Vina—before Pike stormed off to watch the remainder of the race with his hoverclub.

Pike was tired of people being bitchy, so when they got to the hotel, he dragged everybody into the quiet lobby after he had picked up their room chips and hiked a serious look onto his face.

"You guys all did very well today, you especially, Jim." He raised his eyebrows significantly. "But I'm going to need all of you to do something for me. By tomorrow morning, I would like Mr. Kirk and Mr. McCoy to be on speaking terms with each other."

There was a protracted silence.

"Excuse me?" said Bones at last, quite dangerously.

"I've had _enough_ of you two tiptoeing around each other," snapped Pike. "Jim is doing a better job than you of acting as normal, but still, the situation is bad for club morale. So, you two are rooming together. The rest of you—here are three keys. As long as Nyota and Christine are together, I don't care about who's with who. Okay?"

Kirk and Bones gaped at him.

"Okay," said Pike firmly. "We're leaving at nine tomorrow. Be in the lobby for breakfast by eight thirty." He handed out the room chips. "Get to bed."

Kirk and Bones took their chips wordlessly. When they got to the elevators, Bones ducked into the stairwell and was already in the room by the time Kirk found it.

Scotty and Spock were rooming together. "Can I switch with you?" said Kirk softly to Scotty.

Scotty gave Spock a long look. "Our rooms are adjoinin'," Scotty said. "If needs be, you can switch with me. But for now, well, ah agree with Pike. You two should get whatever this is worked out."

Kirk couldn't even express how wrong that statement was. He sighed. "Okay," he said. "I'll try to resolve this. But if I can't, you're rooming with _him_."

"You have to actually try, lad."

"You think I haven't been?" snapped Kirk. He shook his head, calming himself. "Okay. I'm going in. Wish me luck."

"Luck," said Scotty. Spock merely nodded his encouragement.

Kirk unlocked the door and went in.

x

"Interested in eavesdroppin'?" Scotty asked, gesturing eagerly towards the door in front of his bed. It led into Kirk and Bones's room.

"Of course not," said Spock, highly offended.

"Too bad," said Scotty sympathetically. He set a small gray device against the corner of the door and poked a few buttons. "Here we are," he muttered gruffly, straightening. The device let out a few squeaks, then began transmitting the noise from the other room. "They say sloth is th' mother of invention," Scotty said wisely. "I'll tell you, Spock, they got it all wrong. 'Tis curiosity—always curiosity."

x

"Hi," Kirk tried, setting his bag down at the end of one of the two twin beds in the room. Bones was splayed out on the other, reading something on his PADD and definitely not looking at Kirk.

"We should talk," Kirk continued, undeterred. "You've got to speak to me at some point."

"I really don't," said Bones. "Would you just shut up and leave me alone?"

"Hey, that's something," said Kirk encouragingly. "Keep up the communication?"

"Yeah," said Bones coldly, "no. Fuckin' switch with Scotty already. He's not an asshole who cheats and insults people's sexual preferences." He lowered his PADD to actually glare at Kirk. "I still can't fuckin' believe you were so insensitive about that. Dammit, Jim, deviancy isn't somethin' you fuck around with."

"No pun intended?" said Kirk weakly. Bones just stared at him. "Okay, yes, you're entirely right. I'm _very _sorry. I feel so bad about all of this."

"I'm sure you do."

"I do! I just—I have a hard time with certain kinks, Bones. Domination especially. It's nothing against—"

Bones threw up his hands. "There you go again. Get _out_." Kirk didn't move. "Get OUT!" Bones shouted, getting out of bed and starting towards Kirk. Kirk grabbed his bag and fled back into the hallway, where he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to shove the panic down.

Scotty stuck his head out of his door. "Ah heard," he said sympathetically to Kirk. "Come on in. Ah'll go deal with Leo. Ah'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Kirk slowly. He hefted his bag over his shoulder and went into Scotty's room, feeling a bit calmer as soon as he saw Spock seated primly on the bed furthest from the door, watching both of them.

"Again, ah'm sorry," said Scotty, patting Kirk's shoulder kindly. "Ah'll see you two tomorrow." He traded room chips with Kirk and left.

Kirk threw his bag onto the floor near his bed and collapsed into the pillows, utterly exhausted. Spock watched him for a few moments before speaking.

"Why do you not simply tell Leonard about your past?" Spock asked.

Kirk raised his head slowly. "What do you mean?" he asked warily.

Spock shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He was already in his nightclothes and had set out his clothes for the next day.

"You have been sexually abused," said Spock slowly. "Thus, your reluctance to accept deviancy."

Kirk stared at Spock, feeling the blood drain out of his face.

"What?" he said emptily. "What do you—" He stopped. He felt strange; almost numb.

"You show all of the psychological signs," said Spock gently. He shifted across his bed, moving his body closer to Kirk's side of the room. "You are promiscuous, yet you avoid long-term emotional entanglement. You also avoid sexual acts that are out of the norm. You are shockingly reckless and have a past record of, I assume, depression, judging by your attempt to commit suicide at a younger age. I am surprised that nobody else has noticed these symptoms. Are you still in contact with your abuser?"

Kirk had no idea what to say. He let out a funny little noise and put his head into the comforter for a moment, letting his breath warm his face. His heart was racing. He could not look at Spock. He fixed his eyes on the pillows strewn against the headboard of the bed.

"I'm not," he said shakily. "He's not—around—anymore. But I…. Spock, it wasn't sexual abuse."

Spock was surprised. "It was not?"

"No," said Kirk, feeling something deep inside of his brain break open. "Not—not really? It was never sexual. He never touched me. But it _was_ sexual, in that the threat was always there."

Spock gazed at him.

"I understand," Spock said calmly. "It was psychological, and—physical?"

"Yes," said Kirk unsteadily. He finally looked up, meeting Spock's eyes. "Yes," he repeated softly.

"You have never told this to anybody," Spock guessed.

"Nobody," whispered Kirk.

Spock stood up, keeping his eyes locked on Kirk's. He took the two steps between their beds and sat on Kirk's. Kirk seemed small and far away. Spock reached out a hand to him, resting it on the small of Kirk's back. Kirk closed his eyes slowly and let his head fall onto the bed.

Kirk fell asleep that way, with Spock's fingers hot on his spine.

x


	27. Chapter 27: Who Mourns for Adonais?

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Twenty-Seven: Who Mourns for Adonais?_

x

Nyota Uhura awoke in a ridiculously good mood.

The moment her eyes popped open she sighed happily and stretched around on the bed, reveling in the sheets curled softly around her. While working her muscles, she accidentally kicked Chapel, who moaned and rolled away from her.

Uhura sighed again as she turned to gaze at Chapel, whose short blonde hair was in extreme disarray. Chapel had her bare back to Uhura and had wrapped the sheets thoroughly around her front, which was a shame, because she had quite a nice torso, and Uhura would not have minded another look at it.

With another stretch and sigh, Uhura sat up and popped her neck. Putting her foot down, she almost slipped on the empty bottle of vodka next to the bed. She let out a little squeal as she lost and then regained her balance. Putting a hand over her mouth, she glanced back at Chapel, who had not woken back up, and in fact let out a rather large snore.

Uhura giggled. She stood, thanking every god she could think of that she never got hangovers. In the bathroom, Uhura brushed her teeth and wondered if Sulu and Chekov had done anything scandalous. They probably hadn't—they had gotten much more wasted than she and Chapel.

Uhura was a good drunk; she could remember most of what had happened. Chekov, of course, had brought the vodka. He'd spent about half of the time they were in Uhura and Chapel's room being angry at Sulu for insulting the motherland. All Sulu had playfully said, at the beginning of the night, was, "Listen, Russian vodka is crap; you should try Wyborowa, it's a Polish brand—", but that had been more than enough to darken him in Chekov's eyes until Sulu (four shots later) convinced him that he had just been kidding.

They'd finished the vodka in about an hour, which—Chapel pointed out—was terrible for their livers, but it meant that things went very smoothly for Chapel and Uhura after Chekov dragged Sulu back to their room (Sulu had a relatively low tolerance for alcohol, and also had drunk quite a bit, which necessitated the dragging). Uhura grinned widely, remembering how good Chapel was with her tongue.

Uhura put on a bra and underwear and checked the time. They had about forty five minutes until Pike expected them downstairs, and she figured that Chapel might want to take a shower (she knew she did). She twirled back over to the bed, sat down next to the comfortered lump that was Chapel, and started poking her industriously.

"'Wake thou!'" cried Uhura in Chapel's ear, "'childless Mother, rise/Out of thy sleep!'"

Chapel made a sullen noise and tried to bury her head under the pillow.

"Arise!" sang Uhura.

"'m'a kill you," maundered Chapel.

"Don't make me quote anything else from _Adonais_," said Uhura, talking with unnatural speed. "Have you read it yet? Isn't it due in English on Monday? I read it like two weeks ago."

"Oh my God, why are you so perky?" complained Chapel, removing the pillow and glaring blearily at Uhura. "You should get laid more often, clearly. Also, 'Who mourns for Adonais? Oh, come forth,/Fond wretch!' I finished it on the transport yesterday. I hate Shelley."

"You're forgetting the important part of that stanza," said Uhura cheerily. "'Keep thy heart light lest it make thee sink/When hope has kindled hope, and lur'd thee to the brink.'"

"Like I said, I hate Shelley," Chapel grumbled. She shoved Uhura out of the way and stood up, tottering. "Oh, Christ. I'm going to go see if Leo has a hangover hypo in his bag."

"He carries those around with him?" Uhura asked interestedly as Chapel clutched her skull.

"I'm praying so," said Chapel, rubbing her forehead one more time before pulling on the thin dress she wore the day before, not bothering with underclothes. "Be right back."

Chapel stalked down the hall and knocked on Kirk and Bones's door. Of course, it wasn't Kirk's door anymore, but she didn't know that. There was no answer. She waited a minute, tried the knob, and found, to her surprise, that the door was unlocked.

So she went in.

In hindsight, Chapel acknowledged that she should have known better. Her excuse was that her headache was truly debilitating and had hindered her better judgment. She would also be the first say that her reaction to what she saw—a short, piercing scream—was perhaps ill-advised. But, she insisted, she simply did not _expect_ to see Scotty giving Bones a galvanizing blow job.

The worst thing about it was that, for a full three seconds, she stood in the doorway and gaped in absolute horror at them. Scotty had paused mid-bob and was staring, from under very knitted brows, at her, while Bones had immediately, upon seeing her, shut his eyes as if he wanted to make the universe go away. (She didn't blame him.) When she regained control of her shocked muscles, she nearly killed herself running for the door. She ran into the doorframe about eight times, which would have been funny if the situation weren't so dire.

In the hallway, having slammed their door massively, Chapel collapsed against the wall and attempted to breathe.

She didn't think she had ever been so turned on in her _life_.

She had just gotten her lungs under control when Bones whipped open the door. He had thrown on his boxers and a wrinkled undershirt. His hair stood absolutely on end and he looked like he wanted to rip off her face and feed it to wild bears. Chapel cringed and clawed her libido down.

"_KNOCK!_" he roared, spraying spit understandably.

"Okay, I _did_, but I guess you didn't hear," winced Chapel, figuring it would a) do no good to ask him to be less vociferous and b) probably not go over very well if she asked him for that anti-hangover hypospray at the moment, even though her head was now extra ripe. "I'm _so_ sorry."

Bones twitched a bit in anger and finally settled on hissing, "Were you raised in a _barn_?"

"No—"

"And yet, clear evidence to the contrary!" Bones yelled. "If you tell _anybody_—"

"Tell anybody what?"

Chapel and Bones whipped around, nearly breaking their necks. Uhura, Spock, Sulu, Chekov, and worse of all, Pike, were standing next to their doors further down the hallway. Pike was in slacks and nothing else and had his worst teacher-face on.

"Care to explain the piercing scream and ensuing argument?" he said alarming calm.

Bones turned back to Chapel, indicating quite clearly with his eyes that it was her job to explain this.

"Uh," said Chapel.

Pike tapped his bare foot. Chapel thought that now was the worst possible time to notice that he was _really_ cut, and had amazing hipbones, and was about thirty years older than she was, _oh God, shut up brain._

"Well," attempted Chapel, "I have a bit of a headache, and I thought it would make sense to go see if Leo had some Tylenol, but I, uh, walked in while he was changing, because I was very stupid and went in without waiting for him to answer."

"So you screamed," said Pike, in a tone that suggested she wasn't fooling him one bit.

"Yes?" tried Chapel. "I was surprised?"

"This isn't _Jeopardy_," said Pike. "Your answers should not be in question form."

Chapel was trying to figure out what else she could say when she noticed Bones's eyes pop. Suddenly he had been shoved out into the hallway and Scotty was standing at the door, looking very alert. He was also very naked.

"_Oh_ my God," said Uhura, covering her eyes. "What the _fuck_, Monty."

"Just wanted t' see what all th' commotion was about," said Scotty cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe, free to the winds. "What's new?"

"Mr. Scott," said Pike loudly, hand over his face in an attitude of something similar to despair. "Please return to your room and put on some clothes."

"Scotty, go _inside_," pled Bones. "You are not helpin' on _so many_ not helpin' levels."

"Donnae palaver," laughed Scotty. "All right, all right, ah'm goin' back in." He closed the door behind him, leaving Bones trapped in the hallway.

"He's gone," said Bones. Pike peeked cautiously through his fingers before removing his hand.

"So," said Pike.

"Rather than explain the situation, which would put me at great personal disadvantage, can I just apologize?" said Bones tiredly.

"I suppose," said Pike cautiously. "I'm beginning to sense that I don't want to know the full story."

"You don't," Chapel muttered. Bones gave her a Look.

"Alright," said Bones. He squared his shoulders and said, "I'm sorry I yelled really loudly at Christine for burstin' rudely into my room. I did not mean to wake anybody up and I regret my actions."

"Thank you," said Pike. "Christine, would you like to apologize to Leonard?"

"Uh," said Chapel, trying to figure out the least offensive way to phrase this. "Leo, I'm really sorry I, uh, interrupted you—_r morning routine_," she added quickly, realizing how the first part sounded standing alone. "I promise not to enter into a room uninvited ever again."

"Or I kill you," said Bones seriously.

"Okay," said Pike. "That's good, guys. Now, no more outbursts, please? And I'll see all of you in thirty minutes in the lobby." He went back into his room. Everybody watched him until he closed his door, and then, as if they were snapping out of a trance, turned sharp gazes on Bones and Chapel.

"What was _that_ about?" Uhura demanded.

"Oh my God, nothin'," said Bones. "Chris just—" He covered his eyes again. "_Nothin'_."

"Chris just what?" Uhura said, a slightly wild look in her eye. "_What?_ Why was Scotty _naked_?"

"Bye," said Bones shortly, and went back into his room.

So, everybody turned to Chapel.

"Later," she said, heading back towards Uhura. Spock glared at her and retreated into his room. Chekov and Sulu—who both, Chapel noticed, looked distinctly hung-over, but not post-coital, much to her disappointment—gave her their best puppy-dog eyes. She sighed and waved them in.

The four of them sat down on Uhura and Chapel's bed. Uhura was wearing a robe and, judging by the way she corrected its slit hastily, little else. Chapel spared a moment to rejoice at this. But evidently she was not moving fast enough for Uhura's taste.

"What happened?" Uhura almost cried. "You had this expression like you were about to die of embarrassment! That is indicative of so many things!"

"Okay, well," said Chapel, grinning at everybody, "remember that time back in September when Leo and Scotty slept together?"

"Oh my God," said Sulu. "Are you serious?" Uhura gaped and Chekov started laughing.

"_Dead serious_," said Chapel, trying not to laugh herself. "I walked in mid-blow-job. It was the most acutely, painfully awkward thing that has ever happened to me. Even so, I will treasure their expressions forever."

Chekov fell over a bit on the bed, his laughter becoming slightly maniacal. Sulu and Uhura were still gaping.

"I can't believe him!" said Uhura indignantly. "He seems like he's still pining over Jim, and he's just getting lip service from Scotty instead?"

"Lip—serwice—" Chekov surfaced enough to stutter that and then collapsed again. Sulu eyed him.

"It's not funny," he said stiffly to Chekov. "Leo shouldn't take all of this so lightly."

Chapel stared at Uhura and Sulu incredulously. "Come on, you two," she said. "It's just sex."

"It's just—" Uhura started to say. She looked angry. "Sex is never _just sex!_"

"It's not?" said Chapel, raising her eyebrows significantly. "So, you want to date me?"

Uhura glared right back at her. "Maybe I do!"

"Wait!" protested Chapel, totally thrown. "That is _not_ what you said last night!"

"I cannot be held responsible for what I might or might not have said in the heat of passion," snapped Uhura.

"This wasn't the heat of passion!" Chapel cried. Chekov, for his own mad reasons, was finding this conversation even funnier, and had actually rolled off the bed and was banging into furniture on the floor. "This was _pre-_passion! Oh my God, how can _you_ say that sex is never just sex? You had sex with your _teacher_ last summer. What is it with you and Vulcans, anyway?"

"The Vulcan thing is a different topic," said Uhura composedly. "Also, he was not my teacher at that point. I just—I take sex seriously. I look at every assignation from every angle."

"Bad wording," said Sulu pertly.

A single tear leaked down Chekov's cheek. Chapel kicked him lightly. It didn't do any good. She would be down there with him, but Uhura was being very strange indeed.

"Okay," said Chapel. "I feel like there are a number of different issues at play here. One, at the moment, I cannot be trusted to articulate sane opinions because of my massive hangover. But you should still take me seriously. Two, it is not impolitic of me to say that you are being a _total hypocrite_ when you state, as I continue to quote, that sex is never just sex. Three, I think Leo can get blow jobs from whomever he wants, because it's his dick. And four, if you wanted to go out with me, you could have just _asked_."

"I—yes, point one, I'm not contesting," said Uhura sincerely. "I would like to also throw out there, before we begin this, that you are very good in bed. So you know."

"_Thank_ you. So are you."

"Thanks. Okay, two, listen, I may have lots—well, lots is even an overstatement—I may have _some_ as-yet-to-be-determined amount of sexual intercourse, but I take it seriously. All sex really does _mean_ something. I'm not here to say precisely _what_ it means, but nevertheless, there is significance in it, and it's wrong to say that sex bridges—or destroys—no gaps between people. It does _something_ to relationships, and nobody's really qualified to say what that something is yet—which, I guess, is sort of the point—but it's there, and it's important to acknowledge. In reply to point three, well, yes, it is his own dick, but he should have taken his own dick more seriously." Uhura's mouth twisted. "That was a weird sentence. And point four, fine, do you want to go out with me?"

Chapel laughed. "Let me think it over and I'll let you know."

"Can I be involved in this argument?" Sulu asked. "It's quite engaging."

"Thank you," said Uhura and Chapel.

"Okay," said Sulu. "Here's what I think. I think I'm between you two. I'm with Nyota in that I agree that sex is, you know, important and shit, mainly because of how it affects relationships. But I'm also with Chris in that I think it shouldn't be taken _too_ seriously, because if you try to take sex too seriously it starts to hurt your brain. I just—I jump to conclusions, you guys know that about me already. So what I said earlier, about Leo taking this too lightly—well, I guess I stand by that statement at about half of my previous level of determination."

"That was not helpful at all," said Uhura. "You're so indecisive."

"I know," sighed Sulu. "I just see both sides."

"I'm sure that's frustrating."

"You have no idea."

"You're right."

Chekov was merely twitching at this point. Sulu reached down and tugged him into a sitting position.

"You alive?" he asked.

"Yes," muttered Chekov, wiping his eyes. "It is just that this situation is so _wery_ funny. With the interruptions. And the arguments."

Sulu sighed at him, looking even more in love than usual. "You never cease to amaze me, Pavel."

Chekov looked like he was going to start giggling again.

Uhura chose this moment to glance at the time and screeched that she _had to take a shower_ before they left and expelled Sulu and Chekov unceremoniously, and in a bit of a whirlwind, so that the boys were gone and Uhura was lathering up her hair before Chapel could blink, much less ask to join.

She stuck her head into the bathroom. "Can I take a shower too?"

"I'm almost done!" called Uhura, voice muffled by the water and shower curtain.

"Come on, all of last night was seeing you naked. And also that time a few months ago. And that time in junior year. And, wait, didn't we do it, like, three times after that party—"

Uhura stuck out her head from behind the shower curtain and glared at Chapel. "You haven't said if you want to go out with me or not. You can't see me naked until you decide."

Chapel stared at her. "If I say no, can I still see you naked?"

"You're as bad as Jim."

"_Hey_," said Chapel feelingly.

Uhura rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, not true. But still, _no_, you cannot see me naked if you decline my generous offer."

"Are you over Spock, then?" asked Chapel.

Uhura suddenly looked like a rabbit enraptured by high beams. "Uh," she said.

"I don't really want to date anybody that's in love with somebody else," said Chapel slowly.

"God," said Uhura, touching her sudsy temple in frustration. "I'm sorry."

"Finish your shower," said Chapel. "I'll pack."

"Yeah," said Uhura. "Thanks." She gave Chapel a distant smile and pulled the curtain back.

Chapel didn't quite know what to think. Slightly confused, she cleaned up the detritus from the previous night and packed their things. She liked Uhura, yes. Quite a lot, in fact; enough to date her.

It was just that she couldn't get Bones out of her head; couldn't extract her thoughts from the length of his body and the hard, straight line of his lips.

x

Spock was less serene than usual because he thought that Bones and Chapel's outburst might have awoken Kirk. He slid back into his room as quietly as he could. He meant to let Kirk sleep for a while.

That did not look like it was going to happen. Kirk was sitting up crookedly when Spock came into the room. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his brow was knit in confusion. He looked foggily at Spock.

"Hey?" he said uncertainly. Spock paused in the door. He had never seen Kirk so unsure before. The expression made his throat twist a little.

"Good morning," said Spock softly. "Was your rest productive?"

"Yeah," said Kirk soberly. "I—is everything okay?"

Spock sat down on his bed, across from Kirk, careful to let his regard for Kirk's personal space show. "Yes," he said, crossing his fingers under his chin. "There was an incident involving Leonard and Christine. It was not serious, nor was it any of our concern."

Kirk straightened and rubbed his eyes, then swung his feet out of bed. He frowned down at his clothes. "I should have changed last night," he said. "I'm going to have terrible lines from this." He grinned weakly.

"They fade over time," Spock said.

Kirk looked at the floor for a while, probably steeling himself. Then he made eye contact with Spock.

"You won't tell anybody, will you?"

Spock had never thought that words could _ache_, before.

"I will not tell anybody," he said. "But you should."

Kirk carded his hands through his already wild hair. "Well, mom knows," he said. "And so does Sam. They know most of it. I've never talked about it with them, though. I just don't see what good it would do."

Spock closed his eyes. "You know what is best for you," he said. "If you should like to discuss this with anybody, I am here. I have experienced a similar emotional trauma." He felt hypocritical leaving the conversation there, but he also did not want to seem eager to make Kirk talk about his woes. He stood, reaching for his bathroom things on the nightstand. "I am going to dress. We should be in the lobby in exactly thirty-two minutes."

"And how many seconds?"

"Sixteen."

Kirk smiled.

x

It would be difficult to describe the transport ride back as anything other than "awkward beyond all reason." The less said about it, the better, according to all those involved.

x

Heather Chapel scheduled an appointment to see Pike for the following Monday, during fourth period. He was talking with McKenna's father and Noel's mother as well, later in the week. Pike did not take skipping lightly, as it turned out. Christine had never actually skipped a class before so she couldn't know that. Of course, after she said the same to her mother, it occurred to Christine that she had not phrased any of this very well.

"So, if you would have known that he didn't mind skipping, you would have done so more often?" said Hannah dangerously.

Christine was not having the best time with authority figures this week.

"Okay, look, you're seeing this all wrong," she said, backing up against the kitchen counter as if trying to find a strategic position. It was Sunday evening and the Chapels had just eaten dinner. "It really was a stressful week, and we all needed to let off some steam. I promise I won't do it again!"

"If you do, I'll take away your car," said Heather, crossing her arms. "Go to your room. I'm cutting your power. You can only work on homework."

"Mom!"

Heather merely stared at Christine, who tried to stare right back, but blinked, and, pissy, stomped upstairs.

Heather turned to do the dishes. She reached up to pull most of her short black hair into a bun, leaving little feathery wisps curling around her ears. She looked just like her daughter—well, Christine looked just like her. They both had high cheekbones and ice blue eyes, they were even alike in personality, sharing interest in roller-skating and Risk and tending the little garden out back of their house. But Christine was softer than Heather; Christine's lips were fuller, and her curly blonde hair haloed in the least amounts of light. Heather rarely bothered to be beautiful. She had a hard, steel core to her that showed even through the sweetest gowns and palest jewels.

That Monday, Christine just happened to be early to fourth period. She came into Pike's room and sat in the overstuffed plaid armchair at the back of the room while Pike was fixing something under his desk. Christine's corner was dark, but not so dark that she could not be seen.

Yet Pike did not notice her. This did not bother Christine overtly. Pike got whatever was under his desk figured out and started back on grading papers. Christine studied for physiology for a few minutes until she heard a knock on the door. Both she and Pike looked up from their PADDs at the sound. It was Heather, of course. She was framed in the door, wearing her usual long sleeved shirt and slacks, her hands crossed tightly in front of her stomach and her eyes sharp.

Involuntarily, Pike stood up.

"Number One?" he said, like his throat was breaking. He bit his lip after he spoke, to keep back other sounds. He obviously had not expected this at all.

Heather hesitated visibly. "Captain," she said. She blushed a little then, and bent her neck as she pushed her hair behind her ear. "Excuse me, sir. I mean, excuse me, Mr. Pike."

"What—what are you doing here?" Pike said. He had yet to blink.

Heather looked confused. "I made an appointment with you about my daughter," she said slowly.

Pike's face went through a myriad of expressions before settling on shock. "Your daughter—you are Christine's mother?"

"Affirmative, sir," said Heather.

Pike brightened suddenly, the crinkles around his eyes deepening as he smiled. "I have not set eyes on you in years," he said heartily. "It is good to see you again, Number One."

"Please, you may call me Ms. Chapel," said Heather. "Or Heather. Yes, call me Heather."

"Call me Chris," said Pike.

"I must call you Christopher," said Heather with a smile. "I call Christine Chris sometimes. It _is_ good to see you, Christopher. Civilian life has treated you well, I see."

"You think?" laughed Pike. "Why thank you, Heather. You look damn good yourself."

It was only at this point that Christine realized she should not be present for this. She cleared her throat hastily. Pike nearly leapt out of his skin.

"Hi!" she said brightly after the adults had turned to stare at her. "So you two really do know each other. Cool."

Heather smiled frighteningly at her, while Pike didn't even attempt to conceal his irritation.

"If you would give us a moment, Christine?" said Pike, sounding rather like an aggravated lion.

"Of course," said Christine, snatching her things and bee-lining for the door. She brushed her palm against her mother's forearm as she passed her, and Heather gave her a short, sincere glance. Christine closed the door behind her.

"Um, don't we have class?" said Kirk, who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the hall, his bookbag slung over his shoulder.

"Pike's talking to my mom," said Chapel gloomily. "About how Helen, Caz, and I skipped physics last week."

"I heard about that," said Kirk appreciatively, straightening and pulling his bookbag into a more comfortable position. "Helen gave me details. Sounded pretty great. Next time you guys do something like that, invite me."

Chapel laughed. "In your _dreams_. Hey, so what did you think about the deal with Leo and Scotty?"

Kirk, to Chapel's surprise, grinned. "They would be so cute together," he said. "I don't really mind. I'm a very forgiving man, you see."

"Clearly," said Chapel, impressed despite herself. "I'd be kinda pissed at him."

Kirk shrugged. "I'm also very reasonable. And actually, well—that type of thing is just not a big deal to me. And by 'that type of thing' I mean 'sex.'"

"You're of that opinion?" said Chapel. "Oh wait, look who I'm talking to. Of course you are. But yeah, no, I totally agree. Nyota's all like, 'Sex is never just sex,' but—it's such a primal instinct."

"Primal," said Kirk, "is a _great _word for it."

"A 'great word for' what?" said Spock, appearing behind Kirk. They contrasted sharply that day; Kirk was wearing a white t-shirt and khaki cargo pants, while Spock had on a gray button-down shirt and black, pressed slacks. Plus, Kirk's expression was lecherous, whereas Spock was stoic as usual.

"For sex," said Kirk.

"Ah," said Spock, with the air of one choosing not to comment.

"Don't you think?" said Kirk, genuinely interested.

"I do not," said Spock shortly. He glared at Kirk, who just grinned maddeningly at him.

"Excuse me," said a voice behind them. Spock had never been happier to be interrupted.

Spock turned around. "Greetings, Stonn," he said, saluting the Vulcan.

"Friend of yours?" said Kirk pleasantly.

"Yes," said Spock. "Stonn and I attended the same school on Vulcan."

"We're Spock's friends," said Chapel. "I'm Christine Chapel, and this is James Kirk. It's nice to meet you, Stonn."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well," said Stonn, shooting a sharp glance at Kirk. "Spock, if I may have a word?"

"Of course," said Spock, allowing himself to be drawn to one side.

"Are you aware that T'Pring will be attending this school as of next week?" said Stonn.

"I… I was not aware," said Spock. "I was under the impression that she would be attending the Embassy school."

"She has decided to enroll in Enterprise High," said Stonn. "I am simply…" He hesitated. "I mention this because I do not wish for her to be concerned by your flirtations with Ms. Uhura and Mr. Kirk."

Spock's eyebrows narrowed. "My relationship with Nyota has ended, and I have no interest in a relationship with James," he said.

"Ah," said Stonn. "Yet your _kha'khek_ _vok'a_ indicate otherwise. I can smell it."

"My chemical attractors are operating at a _perfectly normal level_, Stonn. I am _not_ conducting a flirtation with James."

"As you say," said Stonn mildly. "I have a class I must attend. I will speak with you at a later time. Farewell."

"Farewell."

Spock stalked back over to Kirk and Chapel, who had been joined by Chekov and Uhura.

"Cute friend," said Uhura.

Chapel barely bit back a laugh. Uhura glared at her. Chapel mouthed, "You and _Vulcans_," at her. To Uhura's despair, Kirk caught what Chapel said and grinned widely.

"Thank you," said Spock dryly. "I notice that Mr. Pike has yet to open his door for class, even though class begins in one minute and four seconds."

"He's in there with my mom," said Chapel by way of explanation. "It's sort of complicated."

"Your mother?" said Chekov.

"Yeah, I skipped physics last week, long story," said Chapel. Chekov looked taken aback that anybody could skip physics. "You guys excited for Halloween?" she asked quickly, to distract them.

"So very," said Kirk. "An entire holiday centered around candy, costumes, and scaring the shit out of people. Couldn't get any better. And I've heard Hikaru's always thrown great Halloween parties."

"Aye," said Scotty, striding up. "Ah lost my virginity at one of Hikaru's Halloween parties. They're epic. 'Tis a good thing Halloween's on Friday. Were it durin' th' week, we'd have an impossible time at school th' next day."

Chekov looked delighted. "I wery much like that Hikaru's house is the one we go to for parties. It is nice, and he has such good taste in alcohol." He paused to scowl. "Except for vodka."

"Pavel, seriously, he was kidding," said Uhura.

Sulu and Bones trotted up seconds before the bell rang. Spock, deeply concerned, moved forward to knock on the door, but Pike opened it before Spock was halfway there.

"You guys can go ahead to lunch," said Pike. "Sorry. This talk is going to take a little longer than I thought. And go to the library for second section. You don't have to come back until third and fourth."

Chapel looked horrified. "Are you taking my mother hostage?"

"Of her own accord," Pike assured her. "I'll see you guys in an hour." He shut the door.

"Sweet," said Sulu, looking impressed. "Shall we head to lunch?"

"Ah suppose," said Scotty. "Nicely done, Christine. Get your mother t' come by more often."

"Definitely," Chapel said. "I really hope they spend all their time catching up and completely forget about me."

"That would be pretty convenient," Sulu agreed, starting down the hallway towards the cafeteria. "Um, quick change of topic—does anybody have specific requests for refreshments at my party?"

"_Russian _vodka," said Chekov urgently.

"Yes, of course," said Sulu, linking arms with Chekov. "I got Stolichnaya for you. Acceptable?"

"I suppose," said Chekov fake-grudgingly. He smiled at Sulu. "Also, I require Märzen."

"Good choice of lager," said Uhura. "Any ideas for costumes yet?"

"Oh yes," said Kirk, a positively evil look on his face. "I've got some _great_ ideas."

Spock found himself very much looking forward to Halloween.

x


	28. Chapter 28: Catspaw

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Twenty-Eight: Catspaw_

x

On Halloween morning, Spock awoke with a headache. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and held his head in his hands for a while, trying to ignore the pounding above his ears. He had accidentally shoved his pillow off of his bed in the middle of the night and his neck hurt as well. Hunched and with his eyes closed, he could imagine that he was back at home, in the room he'd had for years. He believed this for a while, and when he finally opened his eyes to see that he was as far from home as could be, sorrow struck him like a wave. This room was smaller and nicer; the carpet was green instead of blue, and the walls were painted a pleasing sepia and cut in half by crown molding, while in his old room, the wallpaper had had a beautiful, swirling blue and silver pattern.

He dressed and packed his bookbag, wincing whenever he accidentally moved quickly or tilted his head. He wanted, more than anything, to walk downstairs and find his father making breakfast while his mother sat at the table getting her things ready for school. He would ask her for the medkit and she would bring it to him and sit next to him, rubbing his shoulder concernedly, as he told her that he was _Fine, mother, just a small headache, there is no need to worry_. He'd take a Vicolenol or an Advilamine and set the electronic massager to knead his neck while she cooed over him and he and Sarek did the Vulcan equivalent of rolling their eyes. And then he'd kiss her goodbye and head off to school, and it would all be normal and sweet.

He shrugged the sadness away. There was no downstairs to go to in their apartment in the Vulcan embassy. Instead, pushing his glasses resolutely up on his nose, he walked down the hallway in between the living quarters and the entertaining quarters, into the kitchen, where Sarek sat alone, reading the news on his PADD.

"Felicitations are in order," said Sarek, glancing up. "I believe today is Halloween. Do you plan on attending Mr. Sulu's celebration of the holiday?"

Spock, who had gone to Sulu's Halloween parties since he had moved to Earth, nodded, then winced. "Are you aware of the location of a medkit? I awoke with a headache."

"There is one in the first cabinet," said Sarek, and returned to his PADD.

There was no electronic massager in the medkit, so Spock took a few pills and prayed they would work. He said goodbye to Sarek and drove to school.

The very first thing he saw once he'd entered the building was James Kirk, in a toga, arguing with Vice Principal Archer.

"Okay, at my old school, we always wore our Halloween costumes to school on Halloween day," said Kirk angrily. "You seriously have a 'no costumes' policy here? That is _so_ twenty-first century."

"The fact remains," said Archer, "that you have to either change or be suspended for refusing to cooperate."

"That _sucks_."

"Yeah," said Archer unsympathetically. "I'll escort you to the bathroom so you can take the toga off."

Kirk huffed a bit and then, scowling, deigned to follow Archer down the hall. Spock, who had paused to listen to the exchange, made eye contact with Kirk, who winked at him. Spock simply raised his eyebrow.

"Who were you supposed to be?" Spock asked half an hour later as Kirk slid into the seat next to him before English.

"Scipio Africanus," said Kirk. "I heard Nero was dressing up as Hannibal Barca, so I thought it'd be appropriate."

Spock was at a surprising loss. "Excuse me?" he said. "_Who_?"

Instead of rubbing it in, Kirk said, "Oh, a guy from my military history class. Scipio Africanus beat Hannibal at the Battle of Zama, ending the Second Punic War."

"Ah," said Spock. "I thought that Hannibal was barely able to lead his contingent over the Alps because of all the elephants."

"The elephant thing is exaggerated," said Kirk, looking irritated. "Here's how it happened…"

And he proceeded to tell Spock more than he had ever wanted to know about not just the Second Punic War, but _all_ of the Punic Wars, and some about the Macedonian Wars as well, and the significance of Vergil's _Aeneid_ and Republican hegemonial imperialism within all of it.

Uhura rescued him right before class started by calling his communicator. Spock hurried over to her.

"That was terrible," he said seriously. "I had no idea James was so obsessed by military history."

"I am _shocked_ that he hasn't done that to you before," said Uhura. "I mean, he's generally not bad, but sometimes he goes on tangents. Leo could tell you, if he were willing to talk about Jim."

"Does he want to join Starfleet?" Spock asked.

"I'm not sure," said Uhura speculatively. "His father, you know."

"Yes… I can see how, with James, that fact could either encourage or discourage him."

School crawled by. It sounded like everybody was coming to Sulu's Halloween party. Sulu's parents were, as usual, conveniently absent, although both of his sisters were home at the moment. They were not particularly responsible and had agreed to acquire the bulk of the alcohol.

Chekov, like Spock, had a difficult time understanding the whole getting-to-a-party-on-time-is-very-lame concept, but that was absolutely okay with Sulu because it meant that Chekov showed up about an hour before even the robotics team started to trickle in. The reveal of Chekov's costume was quite dramatic: Sulu, not even in costume yet, heard a knock on the door as he was searching for Dixie cups in kitchen island and answered it to find… nothing. He frowned at the street for a few minutes, turned around, and was confronted with the capped tip of a foil and somebody shouting, "_En garde!_" in a Russian accent.

He screamed and threw himself backwards. He'd just started breathing again when he realized who held the sword. It was Chekov, dressed in a royal blue broad-brimmed hat garnished with a gigantic white plume, a long tunic of the same color with full, flowing sleeves, and knee-high black boots over black hose. A thick fleur-de-lis was stitched onto the front of the tunic, and a belt and scabbard adorned Chekov's midsection.

"Milady," said Chekov, grinning widely, his blue eyes flashing. "For now, I shall spare your life."

"Oh my God," said Sulu. "Oh my God," he repeated, and then, "Christ in a _bucket_."

"Are you okay?" said Chekov, bending down and finally looking concerned.

"_How_ did you get into my _house_?"

"The backdoor was unlocked," said Chekov. "While honorable, d'Artagnan would not want to present himself too obwiously to his enemy."

"You went around the _back_?" said Sulu, finally standing. His knees shook a bit. "Okay. Seriously. Don't do that again. Unless you want to kill me, or something."

Chekov was offended. "I would newer want to kill you, Hikaru."

Sulu glared at him. "Good to know. Listen, I'm going to go put my costume on. Stay here and don't attack anybody, okay? Inoue and Sh'Ragh are around here somewhere, and Sh'Ragh could probably kill you with his pinky."

He left Chekov in the kitchen, dashed up stairs and put on his suit, and came back down. Chekov was sitting, alone, at the island, twirling a bottle of vodka. He looked up and his jaw dropped.

Sulu's pinstripe suit was much like any other pinstripe suit. There was a white handkerchief stuffed in the breast pocket, and his tie was black over his white collared shirt. His shoes were polished black derbies and his fedora, also pinstriped, was tilted at a rakish angle. His toy machine gun was propped on one jacketed shoulder. He raised a corner of his mouth at Chekov, who tried not to melt.

"What… what a nice costume," Chekov gulped after a while.

Sulu was concerned. He spun around. "You don't like it? I mean, I didn't put much effort into it, but still. Is it just _nice_? Is it too much? Maybe the handkerchief isn't necessary…"

Chekov, at the moment, didn't think that anything except for the tie and the hat were necessary. He hurriedly said, "Oh, no, no, it is fine! Is a good gangster costume! You look wery… scary."

"I do not look _scary_."

"Well, okay, I was being faceetious."

"Fac_ee_tious?" Sulu grinned.

Chekov scowled at him. "Do not make fun of my accent."

Laughing, Sulu threw up his hands. "Whatever. Want to start the party early? I have like twenty bottles of vodka. The liquor store had cheap Sovlova."

Chekov had a shot, declared it undrinkable, and chided Sulu for not obeying his orders to purchase _good_ Russian vodka. Sulu rolled his eyes and got him some lager, which made Chekov a little happier. They talked for a few minutes, Sulu trying not to stare at Chekov's legs (he wasn't even wearing pants, for Christ's sake, just _tights_) and Chekov trying not to stare at Sulu's hat. And then a Klingon wandered into the kitchen.

"Hey, Sh'Ragh," said Sulu, while Chekov tried not to choke on his Märzen.

"Sup," said Sh'Ragh gruffly, sitting down next to Chekov and grabbing the opened vodka. He was (Chekov thought) about eighty feet tall, forty feet wide, and very brown, but curiously, he was wearing a short, human-haired wig over his ridged scalp. He was also clean-shaven and clothed in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Nice human costume," said Sulu.

"Thanks," said Sh'Ragh, wiping his mouth after taking a long swig of the vodka.

"This is my friend Pavel Chekov. Pavel, this is my sister Inoue's fiancé, Sh'Ragh, son of Sh'Kahm, of the House of Antaak."

"Nice to meet you," said Sh'Ragh in perfect Standard. "Who are you supposed to be, Athos, Porthos, or Aramis?"

"D'Artagnan, actually," said Chekov. He didn't have to continue because Inoue, who Chekov had never met, entered the kitchen and everybody suddenly became very busy staring at her. She was wearing a low cut, form-fitting suit of armor. A silver warrior's sash fell across her chest, and a prosthetic ridged forehead with long, black braids was fitted over her scalp.

"Wow," said Hikaru. Chekov made funny noises. Sh'Ragh whistled at her, and she came to sit on his knee. Beneath the prosthetic, she had sharp cheekbones, a wide forehead, and bright eyes, just like Hikaru's. She was taller than Hikaru, as well, quite unlike Miko, who followed her in. Miko was dressed as Marilyn Monroe; blonde wig, white dress, beauty spot and all.

"Your family is wery attractive," said Chekov after he'd been introduced to Inoue.

"Thanks," said Miko and Inoue at the same time. They grinned at each other. Chekov thought that Inoue looked a lot calmer and nicer than Miko, but hadn't Miko said that Inoue was the troublemaker of the family?

"So how come you guys chose to stay here for Halloween?" said Hikaru. "A high school party's got to be old-school for you."

"I want a night off," said Inoue, mostly to Sh'Ragh, who nodded in agreement. "We've been at Starfleet headquarters every day since we got back from Theta V. Sh'Ragh's being ceremoniously naturalized and I'm having to do another training course in Rutivian culture. Even though I live on the Rutivian _homeworld_ and could teach my teacher a thing or two. Fucking regulations."

"How did you meet?" Chekov asked curiously.

"Oh, Theta V's a small planet," said Sh'Ragh. "I grew up on the T'Rasshanagh outpost, near Cetidan—that's why I speak Standard English so well." Cetidan was one of the primary Terran colonies in the Klingon sector. "I got assigned to Theta V when I was in the KDF. When the planet was being attacked by Romulan pirates, my cohort helped evacuate Inoue's school."

"It was very romantic," said Inoue. "He broke his leg falling down a flight of stairs. One of his comrades and I had to carry him outside."

"I _fractured_ my _ankle_ and you and T'Shena did not _carry_ me, you just let me lean on you."

"Either way, he proved his strength and manliness," said Inoue, trying not to grin. "And from the noises you were making, T'Shena and I thought you were dying, not just suffering from a fractured ankle. Klingons aren't supposed to complain that much, are they?"

"I hate you," said Sh'Ragh.

An hour and a half later, the party was in full swing. Miko, Inoue, and Sh'Ragh laid claim to one half of the dining room table and mostly talked to each other, although when a few Klingon students from Valor High showed up, Sh'Ragh went to socialize with them.

Kirk showed up in a toga again and told anybody who would listen all about the Second Punic War, at least until Uhura, dressed in a flowing white robe, Egyptian headgear, and a fake beard, hit him over the head with her ankh crook for being annoying.

"Hey, fuck you, Cleopatra," said Kirk, rubbing his head angrily.

"I'm Hatshepsut, dumbass," said Uhura. "Get your pharaohs right."

"Oh, come on, you're mad at me for telling people I'm not Julius Caesar!" Kirk paused speculatively. "Although if I were Julius Caesar, and you were Cleopatra—well, then there'd be a historical precedent for us getting it on."

Instead of arguing, Uhura rolled her eyes and plied him with alcohol.

Spock, cured of his headache, showed up later than he would have wished, since he had been talking with Stonn and forgot the time. Scotty answered the door wearing a curly gray wig and a matronly sort of green-plaid dress with an embroidered rampant lion on one shoulder and a Gaelic thistle on the other.

"Arabella Richard, I presume?" said Spock. In the 2100s, Arabella Richard had united the four nations of the British Isles under one flag, much like James Mugabe, who did the same for North America a few decades later. She was famous incorporating the symbols of Britain and Ireland into her clothing, and for having steel-gray hair. She was commonly called the Iron Queen—a few purposeful steps up from Iron Lady.

"Good one," said Scotty, motioning Spock inside. "An' you are…?"

Spock's costume was indeed puzzling. He wore a blue shirt and blue pants, decorated with small, rudimentary drawings of waves. He had painted the entirety of his body blue and had even spray-painted his hair. The effect was overwhelming, and very strange.

"I am a body of water," said Spock. "Note the evidence of the tide." He motioned to the little waves.

"You're a pun," said Scotty, not quite able to believe it. "You dressed up as a pun—again—for Halloween."

"Yes," said Spock. "I enjoy puns. Do you not recall that I have been a pun every year that I have attended Hikaru's Halloween party? And, where is Hikaru?"

"Ah have no idea," said Scotty, sighing. "Spock, you are th' strangest person ah know."

"Thank you. I will go find Hikaru now."

Hikaru was talking to Gary Mitchell and Elizabeth Dehner, who were dressed as Robin Hood and Maid Marian. Dehner looked jaunty in green and even had a quarrel of arrows slung over her shoulder, while Mitchell was charming in a flowing pink dress that was right out of the fifteenth century. Christine Chapel was there too. She was… well, that was a quandary.

"What are you?" she and Spock asked each other.

"I am a body of water," said Spock. Chapel rolled her eyes.

"I'm a beard," said Chapel.

"What?"

"A beard," she repeated. She was indeed covered in fake hair in the shape of a three-dimensional goatee, with the moustache riding on her head as a hat.

"I do not understand," said Spock.

"Don't worry about it," said Hikaru quietly to him. "Remember last year, when she came as cheese?"

"Yes, and I did not understand then—"

"It's just better not to think about Chris's costumes. Starts to make your brain hurt. Here, have some Kalhua."

Spock made himself a very small White Russian and wandered off. Kirk was flirting with two girls and three boys at the same time. Spock was impressed despite himself. Bored, he was about to go find Uhura when he ran into Bones.

"What the hell are you?" said Bones, staring at Spock's costume. Bones's costume was obvious: he was a pirate, with the parrot, hat, eyepatch, coat, cutlass, and all.

Spock explained his costume and talked with Bones for a little while. He glanced back to where Kirk had been, but he was gone.

Kirk had found a few of Hikaru's less reputable friends outside and shared a joint with them. After an hour he wandered back inside to find Spock deep in conversation with some guy he didn't know about some topic of astrophysics. Kirk, suddenly inspired, grabbed Spock's shoulder and pulled him into the living room, where about twenty people were watching _The Ancient_.

"I have been thinking," said Kirk softly into Spock's ear, "that we should go up to the school."

"What?" said Spock, trying to detach himself from Kirk. "Why?"

"I have no idea," said Kirk firmly. "But it'll be awesome." He pushed a bottle of scotch into Spock's hand. "What are you waiting for?"

During the hour that Kirk had been outside, Spock had kept adding to his White Russian, so that by this point, he felt warm, blurry, and lushly content. As such, he thought about Kirk's proposition intently for a few moments, found about twenty logical reasons to say no to it, and said yes anyway.

"_Awesome_," said Kirk. "Come on. Hikaru lives crazy close. We can walk there."

They tottered down the avenue, in and out of the circle of streetlights. Spock was merely quite tipsy from the chocolate in the liqueur, and Kirk was more high than drunk. Still, it took them nearly half an hour to get to Enterprise High.

They had to pause at the back of the school, where the sidewalk veed into the parking lot. The blue oat grass puffing out of the ground next to the sidewalk was covered in jewels. The sprinkler had clearly just gone off, and in the moonlight, the plants sparkled, capturing tiny photographs in the dewdrops clinging to their leaves.

Spock stared at the plants for a while, trying to understand how something so beautiful could just be sitting there like that, before Kirk dragged him away.

They went around the back, to the garage where the _Enterprise_ was stored. Kirk unlocked the side-door, disabling the alarm with fumbling fingers, and went inside. Spock, who was curiously interested in every detail of the things around him, took a while to follow him. He inspected the frame of the door, and its brass handle and jagged lock, before pushing his palm against the cool metal and entering the garage. Kirk had turned one small handlight on and thrown the sheet off of the _Enterprise. _He was propped against the back wall, staring at the hovercraft and sipping moodily from his bottle of scotch.

Spock veered around the vehicle and came to sit next to Kirk, who offered him the scotch. Spock declined, realizing somewhere in the cloudy back of his mind that he was going to be sick soon. (He hated throwing up, but for some reason, this fact failed to worry him as it generally did.) His blue paint was smeared around his lips and eyes, and the color on his hair was starting to flake. Kirk marveled at how unkempt he was.

"You're messy," he said uselessly, poking Spock's cheek. A bit of blue attached itself to his finger, and he tried to wipe it on Spock, but since Spock was wearing all blue, he couldn't tell if it was working or not. Eventually he wiped the finger on his toga, leaving a long cerulean smear down one side.

"I am not messy," said Spock composedly. "I am merely a bit rumpled. You are messy. I looked it up and you killed twenty thousand Carthaginians at Zama."

"If you're holding my costume against me, then, then you're one to talk—I don't even know how many Romans you've killed. You're the sea. They hated the sea. Did I tell you that story? About the sea?"

"What story?"

Kirk grinned, leaning up against Spock's shoulder. "I _looove_ this story. Okay, so, the First Punic War."

Spock groaned and tried to scoot away. Kirk protested and grabbed Spock's thigh, squeezing the big muscle in it painfully. Spock stopped, glaring at him and trying not to lean into the tug of Kirk's big hands.

"Listen to it," Kirk pled. "It's great. So the Romans stumble into a war with Carthage, right? In Sicily. And this is before Rome is a great power. So the Carthaginians are running around in ships, and the Romans, well, they've never really been out of Italy before, so they don't build a fleet for _ages_ because they've never built a fleet and they're afraid to—the Romans hate doing new things. And when they finally do build a fleet, they do this really interesting thing. Because they're used to fighting on land, they build this boarding bridge onto their boats. So when they engage the Carthaginians, there's this gigantic, spiky _thing_ is on the prow of the Roman ships, and they ram into the Carthaginians and toss down the boarding bridges and the bridges bury themselves in the Carthaginian ships and the Roman soldiers run across them and kill all of the Carthaginians. And the Carthaginians, before they're dead, are basically like, 'Oh my God, what the hell is this? _What is happening here?_' And they loose the battle because they're so freaked out by the Roman boarding bridge."

Spock stared at him.

"Don't you get it?" said Kirk. "The Romans were afraid of the sea. It terrified them. They wanted to feel like they were back on land, so they fought as if they were, and it gave them such a huge advantage that they were able to defeat the largest sea power in the Mediterranean."

"Is this a metaphor?" said Spock guardedly.

Kirk smiled. "Yeah."

"That is—that is sad," said Spock. "You do not have to be that afraid of—whatever it is, James."

"The Romans got over it eventually. They stopped using the boarding bridge after a few years."

"Well, good for them, but you are not an empire."

"Yeah. No man is an island. John Bon Jovi."

"John Donne, I believe—"

"Haven't you ever—" Kirk sighed. "Never mind."

"Here." Spock wrested the scotch out of Kirk's grip. "Let me get that boarding bridge for you."

"Hey!"

"You do not need it," Spock chided, slipping the bottle into his pocket. "Nor do you need pretenses. You are James Tiberius Kirk, are you not?"

Kirk nodded, looking confused.

"Does James Tiberius Kirk need pretenses? Or boarding bridges?"

"No?" said Kirk, slightly cross-eyed. "Listen, I was doing well for a while, but I'm wasted enough that this conversation is really starting to escape me. I think my blood is mostly ethanol at this point. Please can I have the MacArthur's back?"

"Absolutely not," said Spock primly. "In fact, I am going to go pour it out."

There was a bit of a tussle at this point. Spock won with ease, although Kirk proved to be a very slippery opponent (however, this was not on purpose; it was merely a product of his inebriation). Outside the garage, Spock poured the scotch into the grass, where it pooled for a few seconds before sinking into the ground, leaving only dark earth and a potent fragrance lingering in the air.

"You're mean," slurred Kirk from the door. He had managed to stand up and make it to the doorframe, which he leaned against as if it was a bone and he was a muscle. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was pouting energetically. "You drank too! You're drunk!"

"I am not drunk," said Spock, and promptly repudiated this by dropping the empty scotch bottle into the grass and being utterly unable to find it. He straightened and continued, "I am merely tipsy. And unable to find the bottle. Dammit."

"Did you _curse_?"

"It is possible. Help me find the bottle."

Kirk flapped his hands. "It's all fine. People'll pick it up later. You're gonna fall over if you keep looking. Well okay I'm gonna fall over if I help you look. I mean, I don't think this doorframe is really very steady, actually." Kirk clutched a bit at the wall. "I'm impressed you're standing."

"You _are_ loquacious under the influence," said Spock. He noticed how tottery Kirk was and gave up on the bottle. Carefully, he maneuvered Kirk's arm around his neck and brought him to lean on the _Enterprise_'s hood. Kirk's warm breath tickled the short hairs at the back of his neck.

There was another tussle; Spock didn't quite know how this one started. Eventually he found himself laying with his head on Kirk's arm, their shoulders propped against the windshield. He was supremely comfortable. But when he closed his eyes, the world spun massively, so he kept them open. Kirk hummed discordantly to himself.

Some time passed; Kirk didn't know how much. He might have fallen asleep, except he didn't remember having his eyes closed, and he didn't feel at all rested. He was marginally less intoxicated, however. When he looked at the time, it was nearly three in the morning. Spock, dead asleep, was drooling enthusiastically onto his toga and looked to have been doing so for some time.

"Hey," muttered Kirk, poking Spock in the chest. Spock shifted and growled. Actually _growled_. "Woah. Uh, okay, sleep a little more." Kirk backed off. But his shoulder was getting very sore from the considerable weight of Spock's head—_Vulcan brains_ would_ weigh a lot_, Kirk thought—so he shook Spock's elbow. Spock growled again, but Kirk didn't give up. Finally Spock opened his eyes and sat up very quickly, obviously angry. Then he grabbed at his head and his stomach in quick succession, eyes bulging in sudden panic, slid off of the hovercar, dashed outside, and was riotously sick.

By the time Kirk got himself off of the _Enterprise_, Spock was done and had sat down against the cool brick wall of the building. He looked miserable and tired. Kirk grinned; he was a very cheerful drunk, unless he felt particularly angsty. He heaved Spock to his feet and clapped his shoulders.

"Now that you've got that out, let's head back to Hikaru's," said Kirk. "He gets anti-hangover hyposprays _en masse_ for his parties. I'd do almost anything for that kind of cash." His tone became momentarily wistful. What would it be like to have so much money at one's disposal? He shook the regret away, focusing on Spock, who had really ceased to look like himself and resembled, in many ways, a wrinkly blue carpet, in that he was rumpled, fuzzy from grime, and, well, still very blue.

"I'm surprised you come to these types of things," Kirk added to Spock. "I love getting plastered because—well, the boarding bridge, I guess. But you? What have you got to forget about?"

"Altered state, to differentiate," said Spock, barely moving his lips. "Also, mother."

Kirk frowned in sympathy. Spock sighed, straightened, and shook himself, visibly throwing off the sickness and the alcohol. He immediately looked much better. "Shall we?" he asked, and extended his arm to Kirk.

At which point it hit Kirk like a ton of tribbles.

There was absolutely no reason for the timing. Spock was as little himself as he had ever been—yet he was still, through the blue paint and the emotions and the undignified vomiting, discernibly the same. Kirk realized all in a rush that the kernel that was Spock's incredible personality persisted despite absolutely _anything_ life pushed at him. He was stubborn, like he had been in the hospital that night his mother had died. He was snobbish, as he had proven at the grocery store, months and months ago. And he was determined, as Kirk had witnessed on the racetrack. He was all of these things at once, in just one blink of his eye, and beyond that, a thousand things more, all of them maddening and frustrating and confusing and… perfect.

"Why," said Spock, "are you staring at me?"

"Uh," offered Kirk, his head spinning, "your paint is really smudged?"

Spock scowled at him. "Then let us continue back to Hikaru's, as I have previously suggested, so that I might cleanse myself." Again, he offered his arm to Kirk, who took it dreamily.

"You do not seem yourself," said Spock suspiciously as they started back towards Sotomayor Street. Kirk winced. He was holding Spock's forearm as if it were a live grenade. Kirk had, for the first time in his entire life, absolutely no idea what to do with his feelings. It was _Spock_. What the _hell?_ What could he _possibly_ do other than freak out and be aloof?

"Stomach's bellyaching," Kirk bit out. "Don't feel so great."

"I am very sorry," said Spock, directing Kirk out of the way of a streetlamp that Kirk hadn't even laid his peripheral vision on. "Alcohol can indeed be quite upsetting to one's digestive tract. As the saying goes, you may at this point have too much blood in your alcohol system."

Kirk couldn't help it. He giggled.

Spock, rather smug, trod on.

The night had unfurled its wings hours before, but now the clouds had parted just enough to let moonbeams and points of starlight fill the streets. The lamps all had little varicolored oculi dancing around their white, deep sources, and the bice leaves of the trees and hedges were nearly gray with the moon's sharp angle. The air smelled like salt, exhaust, and the promise of rain. The silence was deafening. Kirk felt like his ears were going to fall off and crawl away, or maybe they already had. What noises that sounded were like fireworks and screams; their footfalls, comparatively light, echoed like a handclap at Golkonda.

Spock's voice stunned him. "Do you plan to stay the night?" he asked. Kirk had never listened to Spock's voice before; the clipped, high tone of it, the carefully formed phonemes with their hint of something alien.

"Yeah," said Kirk. "Mom knows I get up to shit, but I don't like to rub it in. You?"

"I will remain at Hikaru's house as well," said Spock. "Consumption of chocolate for the purpose of intoxication is not exactly smiled upon by Vulcans."

"I see," said Kirk, reminding himself to get Spock a box of Godiva ASAP.

Sulu answered the door and waved them wordlessly inside. The open loudness of the outside snapped into a muffled breath inside of the house, as people, all over the floors and chairs, breathed and snored as one. Sulu had saved them a spot near Uhura, Chapel, and Gaila, who had managed to secure an entire couch in one of the smaller sitting rooms and were sprawled over it, fast asleep.

Sulu, not at all to Kirk's surprise, went and curled up in another part of the room next to Chekov, whose gigantic blue hat obscured his face entirely. While Kirk watched them with something like hollowness in his chest, Spock fluffed the cushions they were expected to bed down on.

"There is only one blanket available to us," said Spock grumpily. The thing was little more than a throw. Kirk didn't think he was ready for this—for sleeping so closely to Spock, and for the sheer unresolved sexual tension of it. Kirk shrugged as if it didn't matter and came to lie down on the pillows.

"I must wash," said Spock. "Do not steal the blanket. I will be back momentarily." He swept off. Kirk watched him go. His stomach hurt. When he closed eyes, the world only spun a few times. He liked Spock. That was strange. That was strange. Oh dear, he was very, very tired.

He fell well asleep before Spock got back, and when he woke up the next morning, Spock was just as far away from him as he would have expected. He felt a twinge of regret that he had not been able to enjoy sleeping next to his new—ought he say it?—his new crush. Upon inspection, Kirk realized that Spock was no longer blue; he had clearly taken an entire shower before going to bed. But there was still some blue paint in the creases of his eyelids, and it was all Kirk could do not to reach over and carefully wipe it off.

Sh'Ragh and Scotty made an incongruous pair, and also breakfast. About forty people had spent the night and Hikaru passed around a bowl for monetary contributions—"Eggs and bacon for half the senior class isn't cheap," he called as everybody _mmm_ed and _ooh_ed over their food. Gaila, who had come as a pumpkin and probably would have won for Most What the Fuck Costume if not for Chapel's astonishing beard, came to sit next to Kirk, who had come late for breakfast after taking a while in the bathroom.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked, chewing interestedly on a strip of bacon.

"Yeah," said Kirk, shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth. "Amazing. Lit up with two guys dressed as Cheech and Chong and then went to the school with Spock."

"Ooh, how romantic," said Gaila innocently. "Did you do anything illegal? I mean, is the student body going to be terribly offended by graffiti or vandalism come Monday?"

Kirk actually had to think about this for a moment. He wasn't the vandal type, and Spock certainly wasn't, but he had been very unlike himself—or possibly, more like himself than ever—last night.

"Nope, we didn't leave a trace," said Kirk. "Just went and gazed lovingly at the _Enterprise_ for a while, then staggered home."

"Sublime," said Gaila. "I watched _The Ancient_ with everybody—have you seen that? I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life—and then made out with Gary and Liz for a while. Oh, and Edith Keeler. Her costume's great, did you see it? She was a 20th century astronaut."

"Terrifying," said Kirk with a shudder. "Did you know that they didn't even have zero-pressure back then?"

"How archaic," said Gaila, shaking her head.

He toyed with telling Gaila, or maybe Uhura or Sulu, about his realization concerning Spock, but he realized that he probably would not be able to do it justice. Instead he went home, high-fiving Sulu and avoiding Spock (though he didn't know why, considering the Strange New Thing. Or maybe that did explain it—well, Kirk was just not sure).

He said good morning to his mother, who merely mentioned that she'd seen the police report for last night and was very proud indeed that he hadn't been on it, and disappeared into the bathroom, where he removed his clothes piece by wonderful piece until he was completely naked and about to plunge into the steaming shower. He took a moment to prepare himself before stepping in; that moment meant that the initial beat of the water on his skin was that much more marvelous.

As Kirk shampooed his hair, he thought: _Well then. Spock. What the hell is that about?_ The topic of _why_ took him until his cleanser, when he accidentally switched over to _because_, which mainly involved erotic daydreams and the occasional twinge of (now fond) annoyance. Eventually he remembered that water was a finite resource, scrubbed his shower gel on and off hurriedly, and turned off the water at the thirty-minute mark.

A few minutes later, as he was putting pajamas on and getting ready for bed (even though it was eleven in the morning—he'd had a late night, after all), something occurred to him. He hesitated, then reached for his communicator and called Spock.

"Yes, James?" said Spock rather sharply.

"Sorry to bother you," said Kirk, trying to sound as apologetic as possible. "I have a really weird question."

There was a silence.

"Can I ask it?" said Kirk.

"If you must."

"During the last race, did you radio me after I'd turned off the main feed?"

"Excuse me?"

"Somebody was talking to me, and—well, it just occurred to me that it might not have been you. I thought it was, but… I just, I just wasn't sure. Whoever it was said that there was no pressure on me to finish the race, and that they didn't want me to be hurt or anything."

There was another silence.

"I spent almost the entire duration of the race… editing… the electronic log of the _Enterprise_," said Spock at last. "A call was made to you after you cut power to the main feed, by Leonard."

"Oh," said Kirk. "Okay."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Kirk closed the communicator.

_Okay_, he thought. _That sort of changes things_.

x


	29. Chapter 29: The Paradise Syndrome

A/N: I hear people are complaining(ish) about the large quantities of sex in this fic. This is very strange to me, since I'm basing the promiscuity off of my own high school experience—so, I guess my high school was (more) filled with sluts (than is normal).

It's like _people are different_ or something. Weird!

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Paradise Syndrome_

x

The coach of the Enterprise High swim team was confused. Her swimmers had been practicing much more often than they usually did. There were only twelve people on the swim team: seven girls and five boys. The new kid, the one with the smile, had become their unofficial leader, even though the Vulcan kid was officially the captain. Together they got the team to up their practice from three times a week in the morning to seven or eight times a week—every morning and a few afternoons.

It was all quite perplexing. None her swimmers seemed more excited than usual about the upcoming swim meet. They weren't practicing with marked enthusiasm or improvement. But the increased work input was starting, almost accidentally, to show in their times. Mirmanee Scharf had cut her backstroke time by an entire _fifth_ almost on accident, and Spock (the captain) was starting to be seriously good at butterfly. Edith Keeler, the best swimmer on the team, was on her way to becoming the best swimmer in the district. Kirk was even coming in second occasionally. Compared to everyone else, Kirk (the smiling kid) was mediocre, but for a second-year swimmer, he was incredible.

"I do not by any means wish to discourage this behavior, but _why_ have you been scheduling so many practices?" the coach asked Spock in the middle of one particularly long swim practice after school, a few days before the Thanksgiving meet. The coach was half-Betazoid and tried to sense Spock's emotions, but Spock was evidently very talented at hiding his emotions even from himself, and anyway, she had always had a difficult time sensing non-humanoid and non-Betazoid emotions if they weren't strong enough.

Spock shrugged. "My fellow swimmers and I have simply felt the pull of the water more often than we expected," he said. "We have become friends, and enjoy spending time together as well."

The coach felt a spike of something gentle in Spock's aura, aiming in the direction of Kirk, who was talking animatedly with Mirmanee. The coach smiled, understanding.

"I see. I am proud of your teamwork. I think that you will all do very well at the meet on Sunday."

The truth was that Spock wanted to spend time with Kirk, and Kirk wanted to spend time with Spock, but neither of them wanted the other to know it. So they made friends with everybody on the swim team and convinced them to come to practice. Their teammates were charmed by Kirk and motivated by Spock, so it worked out well, although with a side effect—Mirmanee and Edith were starting to hang around Kirk more than they normally would. Kirk, knowing his plan was backfiring, couldn't figure out how _not_ to be inherently seductive and accidently slept with both of them a few times. _Oh well, _he thought. _Team bonding._

As a team, they did very well during the meet that Friday night, although Kirk didn't qualify for anything (he claimed a frustrating fourth in every event he entered). Spock got first in breaststroke and second in individual medley, and Edith placed first in three 500m categories. Their coach was delighted.

Scotty and Uhura, tag-teaming as reporter and photojournalist for the school paper (_The Eagle_, after the school mascot), covered the meet. Uhura bounced up to Kirk, wielding the camera. Scotty was currently interviewing the coach.

"I can't believe you've only been swimming for four years," said Uhura, adjusting the f-stop so that she could take a photograph of the natatorium. "You're much better than Edith was a year after she started swimming."

"Thanks," sighed Kirk, who had a towel wrapped around him and was lounging unhappily in a fold-out chair.

"No, seriously," said Uhura, turning to him, switching to black and white, and snapping a mood picture. "Fourth is really good for this meet. And you nearly beat Janice Lester's time on the 100m freestyle."

"Oh, good," said Kirk. "Do you know why she hates me, by the way?"

Uhura shrugged. "She's not particularly stable. I wouldn't worry about it. No, don't look at the camera. You're not supposed to _pose_. Mind if Scotty asks you a few questions?"

"Sure," said Kirk, looking pointedly away from the lens. "Doing an article on the meet, I assume?"

"Yep! The paper comes out Friday after next, so you know."

Something occurred to Kirk. "How's today's football game?"

"It's going well." Uhura grabbed a chair and hiked herself onto it to get a better angle. "News said that Leo caught a big pass at the end of the first quarter. Much better than usual, huh?" Bones, after his injury at homecoming, had been suspended for three games, all of which the Eagles had just barely lost. The football team's dreams of going to state were over.

"At least we're winning something," said Kirk. He kicked his heels as Uhura kept taking pictures. "So, what do you have next week?"

"The physics test—you have that too. And an oral interview with my Vulcan professor." Kirk made a mischievous _oh, is that so?_ face, and Uhura climbed down to whack his arm. "I will have a _conversation_ with him in Vulcan. You have such a dirty mind."

"Hey, you're the one who had an _oral interview_ with him this summer," said Kirk.

"I will actually hurt you," Uhura warned, brandishing the camera at him.

"Okay, okay, truce. So what about Thanksgiving? Any elaborate plans?"

Uhura's face fell abruptly. "My grandmother was supposed to come down, but she and my dad—had a disagreement. So I'm not sure what we're doing."

"You could have Thanksgiving with us," said Kirk, extending the invitation without a second thought. "Sam and Aurelan are getting settled down in our house and he and mom are fighting, like they always are after more than two days in each other's company—even though without each other, they're both very, very nice people—and outsiders would make Thanksgiving dinner much less about Aurelan and I exchanging exasperated glances over the stuffing." Kirk paused to consider what he'd just said. "Not that I would not be delighted to have you under _any_ circumstances, of course."

"Of course," said Uhura diplomatically. "I'll ask my dad. It could be a good idea. We've always been terrible at cooking anyway. It's weird, we get the turkey right every single year even though we've cooked it a different way every time, but the rest of it… I mean, last year I somehow managed to mess up the green bean casserole, and it has, what, four ingredients, and basically consists of pouring and stirring."

"I'm so sorry. Yes, I will ask mom at my earliest opportunity," said Kirk. Behind Uhura's shoulder, he saw the coach waving at him. "I've got to go, Coach Troi is calling me. See you tomorrow!"

Uhura pecked him on the cheek and let him leave.

The football team won their game by a good margin, so the school was in excellent spirits on the following Monday, three days before Thanksgiving. However, most everybody was too busy studying to do much celebrating other than a wide smile: a majority of Enterprise's teachers had decided to give tests the next day, since it was the last day before the Thanksgiving holiday.

Sulu got a study group together for physics that consisted of everybody in the hoverclub, Mirmanee, Edith, Janice Rand, and Tony Giotto. They met at the Shore Leave and were actually productive, although both Spock and Kirk had a difficult time concentrating, Spock because Kirk kept touching his hand and Kirk because he kept touching Spock's hand.

And then, at about nine o'clock, Mirmanee said something about sleeping with Kirk the week previously. Nobody really paid it any mind—although Uhura took time out of her review of magnetic field theory to call Kirk a slut—except for Spock, who had taken every conquest of Kirk's like a punch to the stomach.

Edith, who had an eye for people, brought Spock with her to get more coffee.

"For how long have you lived in San Francisco?" she asked, leaning against the counter and watching him as they waited for their orders. She had snow gray eyes, Spock noticed, so light and pale that they seemed utterly colorless.

"Seven years, now," said Spock. "It is a pleasant city."

"Yes," said Edith musingly, pushing her chin forward in that forceful way of hers. "But you don't fit here, not really."

The mauve-skinned barista sat down their drinks and winked at Edith. She smiled vaguely back at him.

"Really?" said Spock, not really paying attention to her as he picked up his latte. "Where do I belong, then?"

She turned effulgent eyes on him. "I don't know where or how. I'll figure it out eventually."

Spock looked at her. "What do you mean by that?"

Edith shrugged. "I'll leave it open to your interpretation." She took an almost impertinent sip of her coffee. "Let's go back upstairs."

Spock wasn't sure what to say, so as was his way, he said nothing at all.

x

Spock arrived home late that night. He went to find Sarek, who was in the mess.

"When in Rome," said Sarek. He stood casually, meaning that his posture was relaxed only to Vulcan eyes—his back was straight as a board, and his shoulders were stiff and high—watching the workers in the stainless-steel kitchens.

"Eat tofurkey?" said Spock, following Sarek's gaze. "As catchphrases go, it is not the best."

"I agree," said Sarek serenely. "Yet we _are_ in America, which was the Rome of its time."

"Decline and fall included." Spock pursed his lips at the scene before him. The Vulcan head chef was crafting a turkey out of flavored tofu to be served at the embassy's Thanksgiving dinner. "Why do they consume turkey, father? Why not another meat?"

"I doubt that they know, themselves," said Sarek. "It became the tradition much after the initial 'day of thanksgiving' of 1621. It is remarkable that the holiday has survived this long, considering the many upheavals that have occurred to American society. The holiday is only recognized in the region of America; unlike Ridván, Eid ul-Fitr, and Christmas, it is not an official Federation holiday."

Spock was well aware of the official holidays of the Federation. "It is a primarily Christian holiday, is it not?"

"Yes," said Sarek, and Spock could tell that he was launching into a lesson. "You recall that the English occupation of the Americas began inauspiciously? Yet there is a famous moment in their history, a moment with the date of 1621 (as I mentioned before), when the English aliens and the native Americans supped together. Various inexact days of Thanksgiving were declared until American independence, when the practice was standardized somewhat, and by the era of Franklin Roosevelt, a distinct Christian tradition had been established."

Spock was not one for social history, and he did not know, in detail, these facts. "And so it continued."

"Uninterrupted, to the present day," said Sarek. "The Americans are known for their—to use a local phrase—hard-headedness."

"To imply that one's cranial density produces obdurateness is… incorrect."

"It is idiomatic."

"Ah. The travails of language."

"Indeed."

They were quiet for a moment.

"I must study," said Spock, turning slightly towards Sarek. "I plan to achieve a perfect score on this test."

"Of course," said Sarek, continuing to face forward. "I will forgive a ninety-nine, but no less."

"Thank you, father," said Spock. He hesitated, watching Sarek's unmoving profile. Then he left, threading his form through the hallways until he found their apartment, and his desk.

x

"This is strange," said Chane Uhura, peering through the windshield of his car. It was Thanksgiving day and the Uhuras were on their way to the Kirks' house.

"Whatever," grumbled Nyota, who was by now extremely fed up with her father. She crossed her arms darkly over her chest. "You don't have to come," she said, a little louder.

"Neither do you," Chane snapped.

"Okay, none of this is my fault," Nyota snapped right back, leaning forwards so much that her chest snapped against the seat belt. "You had to go and get in your _annual_ fight with gram about _nothing_. Deal, dad."

"Your support would have really been appreciated back there, by the way," Chane fired back. Nyota fought with her father almost every other day. It didn't mean that their relationship was bad, just that they were both combative.

"With gram? Are you serious? I'm _on her side_, you idiot. But I'm more closely related to you, so, there. You're lucky to have me."

"Keep telling me that," Chane muttered.

As Chane spoke, the car came to a stop in front of the Kirk residence. Nyota threw herself out of the car, slamming the door as hard as she could.

"Nyota!" Chane half-shouted. "_Quit_ doing that!"

"_You _quit fighting with gram!" Nyota hissed back at him, whipping around halfway up the sidewalk. Chane, close behind her, came to an abrupt stop. "You're not even fighting about anything, okay? I know she's—all you've got of mom, but just because—"

Jim opened the front door. "Nyota?" he said, sticking his head out.

"Hi!" said Nyota, going alarmingly cheery. "Jim! _Good_ to see you!" She actually came up to him and pumped his hand.

"Um," said Jim, looking at her as if he suspected she needed mental help. "Come in…? Scotty's already here."

"What?" said Nyota sharply.

"Er, I also invited Scotty," said Jim uncomfortably. "Is that… okay?"

Nyota stared at him for a moment. She was thrown off because of the argument she'd been having. Then she caught up.

"Yes! Yes, of _course_ it's okay. Oh my God, Jim, A, I like Monty, and B, I'm not going to ask you to throw a guest out of your house on Thanksgiving. I didn't know he was gonna be here. I'm not heartless."

"Yes, well," said Chane delicately. He rubbed Nyota's shoulder when she scowled at him. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm going to go talk to Winona, okay?"

"Mm," said Nyota suspiciously. "Where's Monty?"

"'n 'ere," came a muffled call from the living room. Jim, grinning, showed her in. Scotty was on the couch with Aurelan, who had a large smile across her face. Scotty had been showing her a little mechanical frog he had built. As Jim and Nyota entered, it gave a steely ribbit and leapt three feet into the air. Jim jumped.

"Scares me every time," he laughed, sitting down next to Aurelan and gesturing for Nyota to sit too. Nyota hugged Scotty quickly.

"What happened to your family, Monty?" Nyota asked.

"They headed off t' Vancouver t' see Auntie Edith an' her massive brood," said Monty. "Ah volunteered t' stay home an' take care o' th' Cairns."

"The Cairns?" said Aurelan curiously.

"My family's eight Cairn Terriers," said Scotty, the puffed-up picture of pride. "Carlyle, Finlay, Jaimee, Todd, Michie, Adair, Tara, and Coodles."

"They're adorable," said Nyota, grinning fondly at Scotty. "Coodles is my favorite."

"Ah, she's th' youngest," said Scotty. "Carlyle's _my_ favorite, if ah had t' pick. Or Adair. Tara, though, is a sweet lass. And Todd ah quite like, although Jaimee's personality…"

"He loves all of them," Nyota whispered across to Aurelan, who laughed.

"They finally managed to kick you out of the kitchen, I see," said Kirk to Scotty.

"'Twas a hard fought battle. But they reminded me that poor Aurelan was out here, all alone, so ah charitably came t' keep her company."

"And glad I am for him," said Aurelan, grinning. "I'm generally so _bored_. Being pregnant sucks."

Nyota made a face. "I'm sorry. When's the baby due?"

"Late May," said Aurelan, lighting up. "We're so excited! And I can't wait to be allowed to do things again. Sam's been up nonstop, doing all sorts of things around the house—and working constantly. Nobody will hire me." She looked sad. "I'm trained as a radiation laboratory technician, but nobody wants a pregnant one of those."

"'Tis reasonable," said Scotty. "They're concerned for th' child."

"And for their pocketbooks," said Aurelan. "Sam got a good job with Starfleet, though. We're not going off-planet for another few years."

There was an outburst of noise from the kitchen. Sam and Winona were yelling at each other.

"—said you'd put the dressing in!"

"No, I said it was _your goddamn job_ to put the dressing in, dumbass!"

"I was working on the _giblet gravy_, okay? God, you are so—"

Aurelan coughed. The voices quieted guiltily.

"Sorry," said Jim.

Chane chose that moment to wander hastily out of the kitchen. He sat down next to Nyota, looking shellshocked.

"They are… rather vociferous," he said diplomatically.

"Yeah," said Jim. "That's a word for it."

Dinner was completed and served with a minimum of conflict. Chane actually ended up being the reason for this, which horrified Jim and Nyota: Winona was too busy chatting with him to bother fighting with Sam, who went off in a huff to complain to Aurelan, who was patiently amused. Scotty, like Aurelan, watched the people like they were a brilliant show, cheering them on and talking them down when needed.

They prayed before the meal, Winona leading, and then said who and what they were thankful for. They were halfway through with dinner when the doorbell rang. Jim, the junior member of the host household, was coerced into answering it. He dragged himself, complaining, to the door, and slung it open.

On the front step, bashful and hesitant, was Bones.

"Hey," Bones said.

x

On Wednesday, David McCoy fetched his parents from one airport, while Ian Kelley fetched his parents from another. Bones stayed home to finish making the house presentable. His parents had trashed it the night before with their annual pre-Thanksgiving party, and Bones, as was his patient tradition, cleaned it for them. He didn't mind; David and Ian always felt so bad about it afterwards that Bones could request nearly anything he wanted for Christmas and generally receive it.

David's parents were quite old, a Oklahoman couple in their eighties that always brought their cat with them. Bones had just finished picking M&Ms out of the couch when the door opened and Emma and Adrian, Adrian bearing Oscar (the cat), came in.

"_Leo_nard," cried Emma, enveloping Bones in a gigantic hug. "Happy Thanksgivin'!"

"You too, grandmother," said Bones, hugging her back. "How was the flight?"

"Terrible," said Adrian cheerily, letting Oscar down so that he could embrace Bones as well. "They delayed us for three hours at the spaceport, can you believe?"

"I can't," said Bones, grinning. "Damn shame. Hey, Oscar." Oscar, who was larger than the turkey currently thawing in the sink, purred as he rubbed against Bones's legs. "Has Ian gotten his parents yet, father?"

"He just picked them up," said David, checking his communicator.

The four of them sat around talking until Ian arrived, his parents in tow. Bones didn't get to see much of Ian's parents; they lived off-world, on a colony nearby. They were the exact opposite of Ian, temperament wise; they were all extremely sweet, and strangely refined.

Lesley, Penny, and Rosie looked nothing alike. Penny was transgender m-to-f and had long blonde hair to go with her height and glamorous good looks. Lesley was extremely short and brunette, and the butchest of the three. Rosie was a muscular redhead who dressed like a librarian. Lesley and Penny were from Alabama, and Rosie was from Texas. The sweet, caring threesome had produced four children, three girls and Ian, and of all of them, only Ian was bad-tempered. Nobody quite knew how it happened, but it had, and Ian had passed some of that temper down to Bones.

Bones's grandmothers descended on him and nearly crushed him with their hugs. Bones loved being an only child at times like these. His five grandparents paid almost absurd amounts of attention to him.

The next day, two of Ian's sisters, Lila and Nova, arrived, Lila bringing her husband Rhitan and Nova, who was divorced, bringing her six year-old, Shannon. The third sister, Delores, was with her boyfriend's family in Taiwan. Everybody made dinner together, a chaotic tradition Bones did not enjoy very much, but it was the way Thanksgiving had always been. And so was their tradition of sitting around, after the meal, and talking about what they were thankful for.

Bones had a pure moment, right after they'd cleared away the food and were about to sit back down and give thanks, when everything he had said and done to Kirk came rushing back to him, battering him like hail. He looked around at his comfortable, happy family, and realized that his anger at Kirk was gone, and that it never should have been there. All of them were going to talk about how thankful they were that they had each other, and how short life was, and how much the little things mattered. He stood up without even thinking. Everybody turned to look at him.

He stared at them for a moment. "I'll be right back," he finally blurted, and fled.

He drove. He had no idea what he was going to say to Kirk. What could he possibly say? And would Kirk even forgive him? Bones told himself that forgiveness didn't matter. What mattered was making his own position right again.

x

And so, on the front step, bashful and hesitant, was Bones.

"Hey," Bones said.

Kirk stared at him.

"I—I don't really have a speech," said Bones, shuffling his feet. "It's just… it's Thanksgivin'. And I'm thankful for you. And I'm also really sorry. And that's not enough—sayin' it's not enough, but it's what I got right now. If you need more I can try. But you're right, about everythin', and whatever you need, you should have it, 'cause you've had a tough life, Jim. Whatever you want me to do—I'll do it. And you don't even have to talk to me anymore. I just wanted to come up and apologize and put the ball in your court."

Kirk didn't say anything for a while. Then he said, "You're thankful for me?"

Bones looked up at him, and Kirk thought his eyes were bluer than ever. "Yes," he said feelingly. "As much as I am for breathin'. You're an incredible friend."

"Don't—Bones, I'm no good—"

"Shut up," said Bones. "You're awesome. Deal with it."

Kirk laughed, and stepped down. He put his warm hands on Bones's shoulders. "Thank you," he said.

"Thank _you_," said Bones. "You can punch me, if you like."

"Nah, I'm too thankful for you."

Bones's eyes were looking suspiciously shimmery. "That's so sweet."

"Oh God, don't cry on me."

"I'd never!" Bones sniffed a bit. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm such an asshole."

"You're not! _I'm_ sorry I cheated on you."

Bones looked like he was withholding comment. "It's—no problem."

"No, I shouldn't have," Kirk insisted. "It was _terrible_ of me."

"Yes, but there were underlyin' problems," said Bones. "Later—or now, if you want—we should… talk?"

"Yeah," said Kirk, squeezing Bones's shoulders. "I'd like that. Once the family's gone."

"Mine are clearin' out tomorrow."

"I'll come over." Kirk smiled again. "I forgive you, if you'll forgive me."

"Nothin' to forgive you for," Bones declared. He hesitated, then leaned forward. They hugged tightly. "Thank you," Bones repeated in his ear.

They parted, and Kirk said, "Hey, aren't you the one who says a little suffering is good for the soul?"

Bones was affronted. "I never say that."

"Of course not," said Kirk.

x


	30. Chapter 30: The Devil in the Dark

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Thirty: The Devil in the Dark_

x

"Who was at the door?" Winona asked.

"Bones," said Jim, sliding into his chair with a smile on his face. "We made up."

"Oh, _good_," said Nyota forcefully, leaning over to whack Jim on the arm. "It took you long enough."

"What exactly were you two fighting about?" Aurelan asked innocently.

"Uh," said Jim, pausing with his glass of water halfway to his lips. "Stuff."

Scotty coughed a bit.

"Ah," said Aurelan. "Hm. Well. Er. Winona, this cranberry sauce is excellent."

"Thank you, dear," said Winona quickly. "It's George's mother's recipe…"

Everybody moved on hastily.

After dinner, Chane and Winona insisted on cleaning the kitchen.

"_Do_ you know what they were fighting about?" Chane asked Winona as he scraped grease out of the turkey pan. Winona thought that Chane could do much better than washing dishes. He was slightly taller than his daughter, with the same large, intense black eyes and firm jaw. He was also tantalizingly well-built, for being a college literature professor. Winona thought that there might be some angels in heaven looking out for her. His upper arms flexed under the thin fabric of his cotton shirt, and she blinked.

"I'm not sure, no," she said, a little too loudly. "They'd been dating, you know. But—well, something happened. Jim wouldn't talk to me about it."

"When did they break up?" Chane asked.

Winona thought. "About a month ago. No, about six weeks ago, maybe seven."

"That's interesting," said Chane, putting the turkey pan in the sonic dishwasher. "That's when Nyota broke up with Spock…"

Chane and Winona looked at each other.

"That's… rather awkward," said Winona. "Do you think they're connected?"

"I don't know," sighed Chane. Winona noticed how deep his voice was, then. "I worry about Nyota. She's very smart, and she's a genius at languages—she's already basically fluent in Vulcan, and she just started learning at the beginning of the year. But she—she gets obsessive. When she started karate, after Itidal died, she got her black belt by the time she was thirteen. She achieved _godan_ last year, and they want her to start teaching the master classes. And she went to state in tennis last year, too. I guess it's good that what she does, she does well—very, very well. But sometimes I think it's too much for someone who's just eighteen. She expects too much of herself."

Winona was silent for a minute, the foam over her hands building as she scrubbed at a plate. "Itidal was your wife?" she asked finally.

"Yes," said Chane. "She was a chemist. Somebody released phosgene in the lab, and she died trying to get people out."

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."

Chane shrugged. "So am I. She'd been working on a truth serum for almost all of her career, and she was nearly done with it. I think that really bothered Nyota, later on, that Itidal had unfinished business when she died."

This made Winona pause. "Your wife was Itidal Kabwegyere?"

"Yes," said Chane, surprised. "You knew her?"

"I'd heard of her," said Winona. "I'm in Starfleet; I was assigned to the _USS Khural_ for a few months."

"Oh," said Chane, clearly taken aback. "I didn't know you were Starfleet. _And_ high-ranking Starfleet, to know about Itidal's project." He frowned. "She was on the _Khural_ for a few months when Nyota was young."

"That was before I was assigned to it, and why I'd heard of her," said Winona. "When I was on the _Khural_, we were mainly focusing on the Rihanh movement."

Chane thought that Itidal's project was probably declassified by now. He smiled. "Itidal was the spearhead behind the anti-Rihanh movement, though few knew it. The Romulans were growing dangerous during that time. At least the Rihanh movement was disbanded a few years ago, when Ezar began negotiations with the Federation."

Winona was taken aback. "Itidal was in charge? This is news to me. We were told some suit was behind the project; I think we didn't know about it for their protection. I'm glad it was successful, though. The Rihanh were dangerous."

"Romulans in general are dangerous," said Chane. "But I'll give you that _nationalist_ Romulans are even more dangerous."

"Thank god for Ezar," said Winona. They started talking about politics for a while. Chane was surprised that Winona was more conservative than he expected; as a university professor, he was quite far to the left.

Winona wondered if Chane realized that Itidal's death probably wasn't an accident. She thought that perhaps she shouldn't have said that she didn't know Itidal's identity for Itidal's own protection. Little harm could come of Chane acknowledging who she was now, years after the Rihanh had ceased operations. But she remembered hearing news of Itidal's death, and the whispers that went with it. Maybe Chane really thought there had been a mistake in the extremely secure government research facility, a mistake that had released thousands of gallons of an early nineteenth century poison gas into a modern laboratory. Why had it been phosgene? Why was it that only Itidal had died? Winona made up her mind to look up the file.

There was a complication that Winona, who was perceptive about events rather than people, had not seen. As Scotty, Uhura, and Chane left that night, Chane drew Winona aside. "Would you like to have dinner some time?" he asked, smiling nervously.

Winona's heart fluttered a bit, although the rational part of her mind said sarcastically, "After you do some research on his assassinated wife? Sure, sounds great." She smiled nervously back at him. "I would love to. I'm not free until next Friday, though."

"It's a date," said Chane, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. (He was substantially taller than she.)

After everyone had left, Jim cornered Winona in the kitchen. "Are you _dating_ Nyota's _dad_?" he demanded.

Winona laughed nervously. "Of course not! Well, okay. We're going to dinner Friday night."

Jim clawed at his hair. "Oh God. Really? Of course you are. Okay. That's fine, mom."

"What?"

"Do whatever you want." Jim sounded pained. "You're an adult. You can date whoever."

"Why are you being so reasonable?"

Jim glared at her. "What kind of question is that?"

"A valid one."

"I can be mature about things," protested Jim.

This went on for a while, until Winona just had to ask: "Does Nyota talk about her mother very much?"

Jim looked like he wanted to say something about Winona looking up the competition, but she gave him her most wintery mother's gaze, and he left it. "No, she doesn't," he said. "I don't even know how she died, or when. Do you know something?"

"Yes, Chane was telling me," said Winona. "Itidal was a chemist and there was an accident in her lab. Nyota was four."

"I get the feeling Nyota doesn't remember her well," said Jim sadly.

Sam, who knew Winona and Jim were having a discussion, knocked on the kitchen doorframe. "Is it safe to come in? Aurelan wants more turkey."

"Of course," said Winona. "I'll get it for her." The conversation was over, and Jim left.

Winona stayed up late that night, looking through Itidal's file. But when she went to bed, she made a significant mistake. She simply left her computer up, since she wasn't done with the file yet.

The next day, when she sent Jim to grab something from her room, he spotted the open tab, glanced across it, and quietly ordered a print-out.

x

At six in the morning the next day, a Saturday, Spock was awoken by an insistent knock on the front door of the apartment. Sarek had gone to Islamabad the night before and would be back at noon, so Spock dragged himself out of bed and answered the door.

It was Kirk.

"Morning," said Kirk, bustling inside. He was wearing a heavy backpack that he immediately dumped on the floor next to the dining room table. "You're not awake yet? Shocking. Listen, I've got something to show you."

"Excuse me," said Spock, attempting patience as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes. "_What_ are you doing here, James?"

"I said, I've got something to show you." Kirk was pulling transparencies out of his backpack and spreading them across the table. They were covered in purple ink.

"And how did you get through security?" Spock demanded.

"I'm persuasive," said Kirk, continuing to dig through the backpack. "Sit down."

Spock, at a loss and very sleepy, sat. Kirk shoved a single transparency at him.

"What is this?"

"Read it."

Resigned, Spock picked it up.

_Classified Level VI. Personnel file 26690B47H26. Kabwegyere, Itidal. Special Services, admiral. Official rank, lieutenant._

"I am not allowed to read this," Spock said, lowering the transparency. "James, this is Level Six classified. Civilian clearance is Level Eight."

"Yeah, but it's not 'till Level Five that you get a felony," said Kirk. "For this, they just fine you and then do an Extraction. Keep reading."

"Additionally, was Itidal Kabwegyere not Nyota's mother?"

"Which is why this is very important," said Kirk.

Spock was convinced enough to continue.

_Commissioned stardate 2211.4.17…_ He scanned the page. _Final promotion SS Admiral stardate 2215.9.02_.

"She made _admiral_ in just over four years?" Spock said. "That is impossible."

"She was a Special Services admiral," said Kirk. "She was only a lieutenant, officially, remember?"

"Fascinating," muttered Spock.

_Head, with Admiral Lidiya Gavrikov, of the Rihanh Project. _

Spock frowned. "'Rihanh' is simply the what the Romulans call themselves, as a race." Kirk opened his mouth, but Spock remembered something before Kirk could speak. "Ah, I recall, now. The Rihanh were a nationalist Romulan movement. And is this name not familiar?" he added, pointing out _Lidiya Gavrikov_ to Kirk.

"We'll get to that," said Kirk.

_Since commission, pursued narcosynthetic research including 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate and sodium thiopental… _"Truth serum," said Spock. … _Degree from Makerere University in Chemistry, International Relations, and Linguistics. … Married 2209.12.12, to Chane Uhura, a human citizen of Federation (background check included appendix III.) … Daughter Nyota Uhura born 2217.12.28 … Died honorably in the line of duty 2221.10.27, incident report on page 3… _"Do you have page three?"

Kirk handed it to him.

_2221.10.26, 16:42. Leak in phosgene storage tank. Suspected sabotage; unproven. Ventilation safety system shutdown. Suspected sabotage; unproven. Laboratory 448B flooded with phosgene. Admiral Kabwegyere, Lt. Cmndr. Heather Chapel, and Ensign Oscar Hiaasen were in laboratory._

"Christine's mother," said Spock. Kirk nodded seriously and gestured for Spock to keep reading.

_Level II secure door allowed exit; Level III secure door did not. Ventilation subsystem 43F rerouted. Security breach suspected; unproven. Admiral Kabwegyere collapsed 16:58, post successful attempt to rewire Level III secure door from ventilation subsystem 43F electronics chamber. Effectively saved lives of Lt. Cmndr. Chapel and Ensign Hiaasen. Lt. Cmndr. Chapel and Ensign Hiaasen were treated at secure location, released without permanent damage. Admiral Kabwegyere pronounced dead at 0:13, 2221.10.27 at secure location. Body released to family at 8:00, 2221.10.27._

"It was murder," said Spock. "Unequivocally, it was murder."

"Yes," said Kirk, eyes hard. "As so many incidents have been. Spock, there's a connection here. Do you see it?"

"Yes, Ms. Chapel, and—who was the other head of the Rihanh Project—?"

"I did a simple search on her." Kirk leaned across the table. "Spock, Lidiya Gavrikov is Pavel Chekov's mother."

Spock said nothing.

"There's more," said Kirk, and Spock felt the excitement in his voice. "My mom, she served on the _USS Khural_, which Kabwegyere served on before her—it was the flagship for the Rihanh Project. And so did Pike, right before my mother. My father died destroying the Romulan outpost on Calder II. Calder II, which became a Romulan colony even after the destruction of the _Kelvin_, because the Federation couldn't keep their forces strong in that area, _because of the Rihanh_. The Rihanh used the planet as a base. Spock, they _used it as a base_. And—there's so much more—"

Kirk shuffled through the transparencies. "There are rumors that three women with the last name 'Dawes' were spies that managed to infiltrate the Rihanh. Bones has always talked about how his grandmothers were in Starfleet, but nobody knew in what capacity, and he found a picture of one of them as a very convincing Romulan once—and their last name is Dawes, and they match the descriptions I've found—one blonde, one brunette, one redhead, etcetera. And of course, your father rescued Nero from the rubble on Calder II, and that's where something _really _interesting happens."

Kirk found another transparency and shoved it at Spock. It was a press clipping, translated from Romulan and dated about four years previously.

"Nero's adoptive parents were killed—quite horribly—when Nero was fourteen, and he moved to Earth soon after," said Kirk. "He was suspected of murdering them—but cleared. And look, they were famously anti-Rihanh, but his tutor, when he was young, was a woman who was his friend Ayel's mother, and she, although Nero's adoptive family didn't know it, was a passionate former Rihanh who had formally rejected the movement just months before going to work as a tutor. And Nero's betrothed, Mandana, comes from Rihanh _royalty_—she's Nero's third cousin, actually; his parents Naeus and Aemilia were Rihanh leaders as well."

"The Rihanh disbanded four years ago," said Spock.

"Yes," said Kirk. "When Ezar started negotiations with the Federation. At the same time that Nero came to Earth."

"James, what are you suggesting? Nero cannot be leading an—an undercover operation for the Rihanh, which have, as you have said, disbanded. He is _eighteen_."

"_Listen_," said Kirk. "Your father. He's famous, right?"

"Yes…"

"And Nero really wants to kill you."

"Yes, he has proven that."

"Now, what is your father famous _for_?"

Spock blinked.

"My father is famous for convincing Ezar to begin negotiations with the Federation," said Spock slowly.

"You see, don't you?" said Kirk, drawing back with something like triumph on his face. "This is why Nero hates you so much. First, you're Vulcan, and Romulans _hate_ Vulcans. Then, since my father is dead, he holds you very responsible for the death of his parents—"

"That is completely illogical."

"Do you think that Nero is at all logical? Then your father places him into an anti-Rihanh household that try brainwash him against his ancestors, and he has to be rescued by an active Rihanh agent. So then he probably kills his adoptive parents, or has them killed, and comes to Earth, for the Rihanh—because it's his legacy; he has to continue the work of his parents—I mean, you know how crazy Romulans are about heritage and birthright and tradition—and finds you, and doesn't even hesitate in trying to kill you, since he's already killed his own parents."

"What fact makes you think that he killed them?"

Kirk hesitated before speaking.

"He—well, he's proven that he's willing to kill. He killed your mother."

Spock had no reply.

"And then, just, you know, to break the camel's back, you go and bust his fiancée for trying to cheat at UIL. It's like poking a mad dog for the last time and it finally breaks its chain. Now, the thing is—" Kirk started muttering and shuffling around papers again. "Am I right about the Rihanh connection? His contact with his tutor, Ayel's mother—her name was Aetal—implies it, but he could _just_ be out for revenge on you. We can't be sure."

"How is it that the hovercar club is so interconnected with the anti-Rihanh program?" said Spock. "Six—seven, if one includes Mr. Pike—of the members have some connection…"

"Just Hikaru and Scotty don't…" said Kirk, scratching his chin. "It _is_ highly improbable that all of us would."

"But perfect for Nero, if he would like to take as much revenge as possible," said Spock. He tugged at his ear. "I am also skeptical about the Rihanh connection."

"We need proof," said Kirk. "How could we get proof?"

Spock closed his eyes and thought.

There was a web here that he could see the edges of. The Rihanh. A nationalist Romulan movement. What, exactly, were their goals? Romulans were nationalist without the help of a splinter group. He didn't know enough about them.

"We need to go to a library," said Spock. "Ideally, the Federation Archives. We can learn about what the Rihanh seem to be from prevalent sources, but classified material can only be accessed through the Archives, and that material will tell us what the Rihanh _are_."

"Okay," said Kirk. "Let's go." He started shoving transparencies into his bag.

"Wait," said Spock, glaring at him. "It is six thirty. The Archives do not open until eight, and I need to wash and dress myself."

Kirk huffed. "Fine. Go get dressed. I'll…" He stared around. "I'll make us breakfast."

Spock raised his eyebrow.

"Shoo," said Kirk, flapping his arms at Spock. "While you're getting ready, think about this, will you?"

"Of course," said Spock, as if he were reassuring an overexcited puppy. "And please, be careful."

"Don't worry, I won't burn the house down," said Kirk, already in the kitchen.

Spock flinched, but Kirk didn't notice his mistake until Spock had been gone for a few minutes. In the middle of cracking eggs, he paused for a facepalm.

Kirk had been thinking about nothing but the conspiracy he suspected he had just uncovered for the past twelve hours. But as he methodically made scrambled eggs, toasted bread, and found silverware, his mind urged him away from his previous line of thinking. He was in Spock's apartment. He put the butter down and looked around.

The apartment was beautiful, and very expensive. Kirk could tell that everything about the place must have cost massive amounts of money. Every metal fixture was elaborately carved or styled silver, and all of the wood was real mahogany. The color of the place was red and steel-gray and a cloudy blue, and as Kirk peeked down the main hallway, he noticed that each door had a different foreign word carved into its polished front. Undoubtedly the calligraphy was Vulcan, and each word must have had a meaning, but he couldn't for the life of him discern it.

He was gazing at an engraving on a door halfway down the hallway when the door he was gazing at was whipped open. Kirk would have shrieked and windmilled backwards, but the sight that replaced it made all of his muscles go taut and still.

Spock, holding a white towel around his waist, stared at Kirk, who stared right back at him.

"Hello," said Spock slowly. He didn't look uncomfortable at all, to be standing there in the coldish air… dripping. Little droplets of water. Running down his sternum. Glistening on his collarbone. His hair, slightly curly, very damp. His hand, flexed tightly around his towel. The appallingly attractive tilt of his hipbones. And the clear beads on his eyelashes, attracting light to his dark as night eyes.

_Oh God_, thought Kirk.

Spock leaned forward, looking concerned. "James. Did I scare you?"

Kirk nodded.

"I am very sorry. I did not expect to find you here. I shall depart for my room now." Very carefully, he pushed Kirk aside and slipped by him. Kirk closed his eyes as Spock passed. The warm, damp shower-heat of him was actually painful.

The soft pad of feet, and then the light _snick_ of a closing door. Kirk opened his eyes. The bathroom's steam emptied into his face. He made a sort of sighing, needy noise, and then slapped his hand over his mouth, hoping Spock hadn't heard it.

Spock hadn't. He was currently freaking out because he had just realized that he had left his glasses in the bathroom, and because he was worried about Kirk's reaction. He stared at himself critically in the mirror for an entire ten seconds, which he very rarely did. He was flushed slightly green with the heat, and his chest seemed sunken. He frowned and poked at his skinny ribs, then realized how illogical he was being and dropped his towel to get dressed.

Kirk snuck back into the kitchen guiltily and finished making breakfast. When Spock emerged from his room ten minutes later, Kirk was had just found the jam and was jubilant.

"Why the hell do you keep your jam in the back of the cabinet?" Kirk asked as he brought the jars over to the table. "And do you have anything other than kwyochik and strawberry?"

"There is some elgontir on the second shelf of the pantry," said Spock, sitting down at the table. He was dressed immaculately in a white collared shirt and charcoal gray slacks. He had draped a coat over the back of his chair and rescued his glasses. Kirk, who was wearing khakis and a niceish shirt (emphasis on the –ish), felt underdressed.

"I hate elgontir," said Kirk. "What do you want?"

"I am content with strawberry," said Spock, reaching for the jar. "Thank you for preparing this meal, James."

"You're welcome," said Kirk, settling down and scooping kwyochik jam onto his toast. "Sorry about earlier. I was just looking at the calligraphy on each of the doors."

"It is beautiful," Spock acknowledged, spearing a piece of toast on his fork.

"What do they mean?"

"They say various things. _Rani ra moi rena ro itisha_—I am in good health—is carved into the door you were inspecting. And the phrase on my bedroom door is _Semara_, which means, 'Fascinating.'"

Kirk laughed, but Spock gave him a dark look and he stopped quickly. "I'm sorry, it's just—really? That's what's on your door? How come?"

"It is not a direct translation," said Spock irritably. "It means something closer to 'entrancing' or 'captivating,' but it implies that it is a system of thought that has caught your attention. There is an idiom that comes from it, _Semara ra itch'ia nahp'du masu_, or—roughly translated—'Fascinated by exigent thoughts of water.' The phrase has dual meanings, of course."

Kirk frowned. "I don't understand. How does it have dual meanings?"

"On Vulcan, water itself is crucial, and thus, one's thoughts about it are significant as well. But as I have said, since _semara_ refers to an idea rather than an object, the water becomes a metaphor. Like I have said, it is an idiom."

They finished eating by seven fifteen and put the dishes away together, careful to avoid each other in the small space. Kirk wanted nothing more than to see Spock like that again, and Spock wanted to know that Kirk's expression had been one of want rather than shock. Instead, they left the apartment, Spock carefully locking the door behind him. They made their way to Kirk's motorcycle, which was parked illegally next to Spock's Volvo.

"I gotta take my bike," said Kirk, swinging his leg over the seat. "You can come with, if you'd like."

He didn't expect Spock to nod, almost eagerly, in acceptance, and move towards his motorcycle.

"Woah, wait. Really?"

"Yes," said Spock, confused. "It is the most convenient. If you must bring your vehicle, I shall come with you, and then utilize public transportation to return to the Embassy."

Kirk was taken aback. "But this is a motorcycle. It has really weak safety fields. And you need a helmet before the automatic guardian will let you on."

"I shall go replicate one," said Spock, and walked off. He came back a minute later bearing a sleek black helmet that he lost no time in buckling under his chin.

"Have you ridden a motorcycle before?" said Kirk.

"No," said Spock. His voice was muffled under the visor, which he then flipped up. "Since you are capable of captaining a motorcycle, I thought that merely being a passenger in one would be simple."

Kirk sneered. "Swing your leg over and get comfortable," he said. "You can wrap your arm around me, if you like, or hold onto the strap." He gestured behind him. "Come on, the Archives are opening in fifteen minutes."

Spock, well aware that his hormones were making him do illogical, unsafe things but not particularly resenting them for it, mounted the bike awkwardly. The tilt of the seat slid him right into Kirk's back.

Kirk took a slightly shuddering breath. Spock was completely unwilling to put his hands in between them to grasp the strap, so he wrapped his arms around Kirk instead—but very loosely.

"You set?" said Kirk, attempting to sound normal.

"Affirmative," said Spock, doing the same.

Kirk shoved up the kickstand and accelerated off.

The next ten minutes were, Spock thought, some of the best of his life, but also some of the scariest. Kirk was not exactly a passive driver. In fact, Spock was half tempted to beat him over the head with the closest solid object he could find in order to stop Kirk from ever inflicting his driving on the innocent world again. This was ignoring how close Spock had to lean to Kirk in order not to fall off, or feel like he was going to fall off, as they toppled down hills and barreled around corners.

They reached the Archives five minutes before the great steel doors were opened to the public. The Archives were housed in a building constructed like the Pantheon: Kirk and Spock had to walk through a short peristyle before reaching the doors, and inside, the view was magnificent. A single oculus, hundreds of feet above, cast a single circle of sunlight onto the floor. Vast computer banks equipped with virtual reality exploratory equipment (VREEs) lined the walls and spread in circles across the tiled floor.

Spock headed immediately for the Starfleet section, Kirk following him. He submitted his information and stepped into the virtual space.

Millions, if not billions, of files were accessible, and visible, within the electronic sight granted to him in the virtual space, represented as floating titles with dates attached. He moved along the files, using the search tool to figure out what he wanted. He selected about ten files to view outside the virtual space (the VREE was not built to display the actual documents, but merely to act as a search engine) and stepped out of the machine. Kirk was still in his VREE alcove, presumably doing his own search.

On his way to the collection desk, where a PADD with the files he had requested would be issued to him, he spotted someone familiar—a woman with black hair. He glanced at her, away, and then at her again, but when he looked back the second time, she was gone. Frowning, he switched routes, diving into an alley between banks of VREEs.

He had not gone more than ten feet before he felt something cold press against his neck, and heard soft voice say, "Move one muscle and you're dead."

x


	31. Chapter 31: The Alternative Factor

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Thirty-One: The Alternative Factor_

x

Spock froze.

"Listen very closely," said the soft voice. Spock realized that whoever-it-was was wearing a digitizer on their vocal cords, so that he could not identify the speaker. "You are going to stop your search. You are in enough trouble as it is. There is a purpose to things, and if you go on with what you've found, you will not like how life will end for you."

Spock felt a single drop of sweat trickle down his back. He had never been so afraid in his life. He had never touched a gun, much less had one pointed at his spinal column. He imagined, for a brief moment, flipping around and grabbing the weapon by its barrel, flinging it away, and kicking his enemy in the solar plexus. But he knew, in his muscles, that his reflexes weren't fast enough. His expertise in the formal martial arts would not matter here, when deadly weapons were in play.

"Do you understand me," said the voice.

Spock's insides were cold and churned shards of ice into the lining of his belly. He wanted to fall down and wave his arms and give up. He would do _anything_ to get that gun off his skin.

"Yes, yes, I understand you," he said, more quickly than he had ever spoken. The tension of it made him hurt everywhere, made his bones scream.

"Good. Now, there is one other th—"

The coldness disappeared from the nape of his neck at the same time he heard a muffled sound, like a cloth-dampened impact. He couldn't move for a full moment, but then something slammed into him, and he fell, convinced as he dropped that he had been shot. He figured that he had nothing left to loose when he hit the ground and so he whipped around on his hands and knees in order to see what had happened. A bit of courage had come back to him.

He _felt_, and saw, one figure punch the other in the shoulder with lightning speed and deadly power. The attacker was the woman with black hair, he realized, but she was moving so quickly that he could not identify her. The other figure, the one being punched, was masked; Spock could not even tell its gender.

The woman was relentless, and talented. The masked figure could hold its own, but was clearly either unwilling to fight or unable to do so to its advantage. Finally, after the woman had tried to rip its mask off, strangle it, and bash its head into a computer bank—all at the same time—the masked figure gave one last frantic but well-aimed lash and struck the woman in the throat, dropping her to the ground. It then fled.

Spock, completely unsure of what had come over him, but cognizant that he had not been shot, went after it.

As he scrambled into a standing position and took off, he acknowledged to himself that he could be making a huge mistake. For all he knew, the woman was the one who had been holding the gun to him. But she looked down for the count: he could come back to her easily. The masked person, however, could get away, and whether or not it was his savior or aggressor, he had to know who it was.

Spock dove out of the alley between the VREEs and spotted the figure disappearing down another alley. He sped after it. The person was breathing heavily, electronically, and he knew—_this_ was his attacker; _this_ was who had threatened him. His stomach unclenched and filled with a raging fire, and he felt that old, passionate anger rise within him. Who was this person, to threaten him so? To _prove_ so idiotically and illogically that there _was_ a conspiracy; to drive him to figure out what was going on more effectively than he could have ever driven himself? He was filled with scorn for the retreating figure; scorn and a strong sense of justice. His feet devoured the floor. He dodged patrons as the figure lead him through a labyrinth of stacks. Soon enough they had a trail of security guards. He was smart enough to shout, "Stop, thief!" as he ran, so that nobody would interfere with his chase.

And then, near the back of the Archives, in a thick bank of VREEs, Spock turned a corner to see nothing. He halted, keen ears perked, but there was only silence.

The fear came back, but in a smaller serving; instead of taking over, it hovered worryingly around his confidence. He padded forward, trying not to make any noise at all. He came to a junction in the close path and, very carefully, stuck his head around each corner. Nothing. Nobody. Empty, open space. He kept looking over his shoulder and then back, so often that his neck began to hurt. He went down random alleys, emerging sometimes back into the main library, where the high domed ceiling was visible, before plunging into the claustrophobic spaces between the computers again.

But there was nothing, nothing. It had disappeared as effectively as it had arrived. He stood still for a moment, allowing himself to finally breathe heavily. His glasses had slipped down his nose; he pushed them back up impatiently. The anger turned into a hard block of frustration.

He wandered into the center of the library once more. The security guards were gathered near the Information Desk, talking in undertones and wiping sweat off their brows. Spock intended to go speak to them, but as he approached them, each of them looked at him, and then away again. He frowned, and kept going, passing their knot by, figuring that if they didn't recognize him, they wouldn't be any help with the aggressor.

He made his way carefully back to the place where he had been ambushed. Sure enough, halfway down the alley, he found the woman with black hair, lying on her side and breathing shallowly.

Concern flooded him. He bent and shook her more roughly than he intended to. He realized that he had no idea what he was doing—what if he had made a mistake, and she died because of his inattention? Had he wasted her life chasing shadows? He was about to scream for help when she rolled over, coughing, and he saw who she was.

It was Miko Sulu.

"I'm fine," she croaked, waving off his helping hands. "I'm fine. Oh, shit." She levied herself up unsteadily, holding her throat and looking as if somebody had just dumped an anvil on her chest. "God. That guy had a punch."

"It was male?" said Spock.

"I don't know," said Miko darkly, cracking her neck. "I couldn't tell. Jesus, what a day. One minute I'm coming to see who's looking up all these datapoints on Romulan nationalist movements, and the next, I'm having to save your ass." She sighed, clearly resigned about something, and then stuck out her hand. He stared at it. "You shake it," she said slowly. "I know you're not totally human, but come on."

He took the hand, and she moved it up and down in hers. "Special agent commander Miko Sulu. Nice to make your acquaintance, Suspect Spock."

"_Suspect_?"

"We check up on everybody who pulls up a certain combination of files. Your dataprint wasn't registered in the VREE database and I was a few blocks away having a relaxing breakfast, so Special Services called me in. Worked out pretty well for you. You're welcome."

"You are a special agent?" said Spock, knowing his statement was very much behind the times but still needing to express his disbelief. "I thought you were—" He struggled to remember what Hikaru had said about his sister. "—an artist. In Seattle?"

"No, a photographer. But you got Seattle right." Miko finally let go of her neck and checked her body for injuries. "You ever heard of a cover story?"

"Why are you telling me this?" Spock demanded. "You could have said that you happened to pass by, saw me being threatened, and were a jujitsu master."

"Taekwondo, actually. It's because I've been meaning to look you up for a while, ever since your house burned down, and I figure now's a prime time to spill the beans and help you out. Feel bad about your mom. Anyway, I'm nothing if not practical." Miko's communicator went off. She answered it. "Sulu here. Yes ma'am. Yes ma'am. I'm on it." She snapped it shut. "Your friend Kirk has pulled up the same files you did. Special Services is concerned. Let's go see him."

Her breathing labored, Miko got to her feet. Spock, again, tried to help her, but she pushed him away. She stood, stretched hugely, touched her throat again, and started walking. Spock followed her closely, still worried about her injury.

They intercepted Kirk on his way to the collection desk. Kirk was surprised to see Miko (although not as surprised as Spock had been). "Hi?" he said uncertainly, stopping in his tracks.

"Go tell the librarian to cancel both of your searches," said Miko without any sort of introduction. "Something has come up, and I need both of you to come with me."

"Excuse me," said Spock. "How do we know that you are not cooperating with the Rihanh?"

Miko shrugged. "You don't, really. If you'd like, we can go somewhere public, although ideally…" She surveyed the two of them. "Kirk's house would be best, since you live in an embassy, and it could easily be bugged."

"Wait," said Kirk. "What?"

"I just got Spock out of a little hostage situation," said Miko, as if she were discussing the weather. Kirk's jaw dropped. "We need to talk. We _really_ need to talk."

"A _hostage_—?"

"I'll explain in a moment," said Miko in a tone that brooked no argument. "Go to librarian. Cancel the request."

Kirk looked as if he wanted to argue more, but Spock gave him a small nod. To his surprise, Kirk acknowledged it, and walked off. There had been trust in Kirk's eyes when he looked at Spock.

Miko got out her communicator and dialed. "Suspect cleared," she said succinctly to the person at the other end. "Request dismissal. Thank you, ma'am."

Kirk was back within moments. "Seriously, what is going on?" he said. "Spock, are you okay?"

"I am… fine," said Spock, unable to find a better adjective. He felt immensely comforted to be back in Kirk's presence. "Commander Sulu, where shall we meet you?"

"_Commander_—?" Kirk started. Spock gave him another signal, a slight raising of the eyebrow. Kirk went quiet.

"God, just call me Miko," Miko snapped. "The place I was having breakfast. Quantum Café. It's a few blocks—"

"I know where it is," said Kirk, sounding irritated. "Come on, Spock."

They left Miko to find her own transportation—or at least, Kirk did. He was, evidently, in an incredibly bad mood. He marched out of the Archives and towards his motorcycle without so much as looking at Spock. Spock was not particularly offended; in fact, he was rather flattered that Kirk was so concerned.

When they got to the motorcycle, Kirk looked around to make sure that there were no cameras watching them, and addressed Spock. "What just _happened_?"

"I was going to the information desk when a person threatened me with a weapon," said Spock. "They were masked and they wore a digitizer; I do not know who it was. They told me to 'stop my search;' presumably they were speaking of the Rihanh." He said 'Rihanh' in a slightly quieter voice. "They were about to tell me something else, but Commander Sulu intervened."

Kirk had gone pale. "What kind of weapon?" he demanded, stepping closer to Spock.

"I suspect that it was a phaser, or an old-fashioned firearm," said Spock more calmly than he felt. "I am not sure; I did not see the weapon."

"Good for Miko," said Kirk. "You must have been terrified. I'm so sorry." He put a hand on Spock's shoulder. There was real worry in his eyes.

"I experienced some fear, yes," said Spock, half uncomfortable, half pleased. "When Commander Sulu—"

"Commander—okay, wait. I thought she was a photographer."

"That is her 'cover story,'" said Spock. "She is with Special Services." He finished telling Kirk what had happened.

"That doesn't make _any sense_," said Kirk, who had started to pace. "Why would they warn you? That would just make want to learn more anyway."

"Precisely," said Spock, gratified that Kirk felt the same way he did. "While I did experience fear while being threatened, as the person intended, I did not sustain that emotion. We must explore the possibility that he, she, or it was attempting to provoke a reaction such as the one that occurred: a sense that the answers are now, more than ever, important, solely because the question is so dangerous."

"Ooh, that's good," said Kirk, grinning at Spock. "Of course, the opposite could be true. They could actually be threatening you. And in that case…" He walked over to his motorcycle and pressed down a few boltheads. A panel popped out near the hydrocell tank. Kirk pulled a small metal object out of the recess underneath the panel.

"James!" exclaimed Spock, taking a large step backwards as he saw what Kirk held. "You are not allowed to possess that!"

"I know," said Kirk cheerfully, turning on the phaser in his hands and switching it to stun before putting it in his pocket. "I don't even have a permit. I think the penalty is twenty years on a mining colony plus a hefty fine."

"Precisely!"

"I'm just worried about you," said Kirk, patting Spock on the cheek. "And trust me, I know how to use it."

"This fact does not encourage my trust. It _discourages_ it."

"Fine. But I'll use it if I have to, and I just want you to know that I can."

Spock got on the motorcycle at Kirk's signal even as he lectured Kirk about his possession of the phaser. He had gotten to the constitutionality of the right to bear arms when Kirk, rolling his eyes, revved the engine, and Spock's mouth snapped shut with some irritation.

They were at the Quantum Café in minutes.

Spock didn't want to get off the motorcycle, his exquisite excuse for tactile contact. He could have spent his life on the thing, feeling Kirk's heart beat beneath his hands. At times he rested his helmet lightly against the back of Kirk's helmet and imagined that their foreheads were touching in a moment of shining calm. He could, at these times, more vividly imagine Kirk's eyelashes, light as air, and delicate, the only barriers between Spock's eyes and Kirk's. Those blue eyes, their color like the edge of sky around gray clouds, hinting of rain and storm and cool breezes. His face, at an angle; the planes of his cheekbones extending over his jawline and casting appealing, subtle shadows across the small hairs that dotted his skin. A quirk, at the termination of his mouth; his lips arching up on one end, laughing at something, and a quickness in his eyes, flashing assurance and determination.

"Dude," said Kirk, snapping his fingers in front of Spock's face. "Don't zone out on me here. This is important."

"I was not 'zoning out on you,'" said Spock irritably, and his fantasy puffed apart to be replaced by the real thing, which he was considering attempting to strangle. "What is it?"

"Well, we're here," said Kirk, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking worried. "What do we do?"

"What do you _mean_? We proceed inside and converse with Commander Sulu."

"Quit fucking calling her that. We don't know if she's legit or not. Why should we trust her? Why does she want to talk to us? She has no reason to help us out."

"At the Archives, she said that she had been meaning to speak to me since my mother perished. I think she wishes to help me."

"How sweet, for a spy. Do we tell her everything, or make her talk first? I think we should make _her_ talk first. And I also think that if she starts to go all judo on us, you flee and I'll take her out with the phaser if necessary."

Spock stared at him. "James, that is a terrible idea."

"We have to have a contingency plan!"

"I trust Commander Sulu," said Spock. "And even if I did not, I would have no choice but to do so. She is an incredibly capable martial artist and could no doubt disarm you before you could even attempt to engage with her. We have more to gain from speaking with her than from not speaking with her, so despite the possible dangers, I feel that we should proceed inside. We do not want to keep her waiting."

To Spock's surprise, Kirk, who had been holding his motorcycle helmet, threw it at the ground. There was a shocking crack as it bounced across the concrete and rolled to a stop against a curb. Spock didn't move, though he felt his heart rate double. Kirk was staring at the ground, his hands wrapped into tight fists, his nostrils flared.

"She could _kill_ y—us," said Kirk urgently. "I am fucking terrified, okay? You can't be so damn _light_ about this. I hadn't—" He passed his hand over his eyes. "I hadn't thought about what I was doing, about what I'd found, until you came up to me in the Archives with her and said something about a _gun_ and your _life_ being threatened… Spock, this is _real_."

"I know," said Spock softly. "I have known that this is _real_ ever since my mother died. I am afraid as well. But Comman—but Miko holds a key, or _could_ hold a key, and we need it. Without her permission we can never learn more about the Rihanh. And if she is not on our side, then I have an idea."

The tension left Kirk's body as Spock spoke. He nodded. "What's your idea?"

"Take all of the data you have collected and send it to Nyota, Leonard, Pavel, and Christine. We should not yet send it to Hikaru; it is possible that he would take his sister's side and attempt to help her. That way, if we are eliminated, the questions can be pursued to their answers."

"Good idea, Dumbledore," said Kirk, pulling out his PADD. "But sending it to Nyota—Spock, this has to do with the possible murder of her mother. Isn't this something we should tell her in person?"

Spock considered. "You make an excellent point. For now, let us not inform her. If things… do not occur to our advantage—" Kirk snorted at Spock's wording. "—the others can _fill her in_, as it were."

"Nice phrase."

"Thank you. I attempt to introduce colloquialisms into my speech when appropriate."

Kirk shook his head amazedly. "Will wonders never cease." He sent the files to Bones, Chekov, and Chapel with a brief accompanying explanation. "We'll have to go talk to them right after this. I was gong to see Bones at ten, anyway."

"Quite. Now, shall we proceed?"

Kirk steeled himself. "Yes. Let me go first, okay?"

"As you wish," said Spock.

Kirk gave him a weird look. Spock had no idea why. But Kirk did not elaborate on his interesting expression.

As they were walking into the café, Spock sped up and Kirk slowed down, so that they were almost as close as they had been on the motorcycle. Spock had to avoid treading on Kirk's heels. For a moment, Kirk's hand fluttered behind him in the apex of his stride, and Spock brushed it unthinkingly. Their fingers lightly wrapped around each other, and Kirk gave Spock's hand a gentle squeeze. Spock felt fear, anxiety, and jittering stubbornness; a strong, hard sense of justice; and protectiveness and reassurance, feelings specifically for him.

This distracted Spock enough that he forgot to be afraid of Miko, who was not exactly waiting for them inside.

The Special Services agent was wolfing down a plate of scrambled eggs and ham instead of looking at all threatening. When she gestured for them to sit down next to her, her cheeks were puffed out, holding the tea she had just gulped. She swallowed, wiped her lips, and frowned at them.

"Took you long enough," she said, slicing a steamed tomato in half and maneuvering it into her mouth. "Want anything?" She gestured carelessly to the menus with her knife, accidentally flicking grease onto Spock's shoulder.

"We are… satisfied," said Spock, applying his napkin to the spot with a certain amount of irritation.

"Actually, I could use some breakfast," said Kirk, who had seemingly become enraptured by the menu. "Do they really serve filet mignon for brunch here?"

"Yeah," said Miko enthusiastically. "Get it, it's really good. And the meal's on me."

When the waiter came over, Kirk ordered a cartload of food, including the aforementioned filet mignon (Spock's nose wrinkled; he had conveniently forgotten about Kirk's distasteful obsession with consuming the flesh of dead animals), plantain fritters, eggs Benedict, and papaya juice. Spock, the soul of discretion, requested a simple black breakfast tea with toast and jam.

Spock thought for a while that Kirk had forgotten his earlier fear, but when Kirk picked up his water, Spock noticed that the ice rattled in it.

"So," said Miko, crossing her hands in front of her and leaning towards the two boys. "You're looking up information on the Rihanh. And why would that be?"

"We would prefer that you told us whatever it was that you were planning to tell us," said Kirk, leaning forward as well and looking surprisingly threatening for being blond, seventeen, and, well, Kirk.

"Fair," said Miko. She arranged her napkin in her lap, clearly calculating her next words. "I'm one of the only Special Services agents that's been assigned to the Rihanh since they supposedly disbanded. There are four more of us, which is, in our view, shocking, since the Rihanh were a big problem for the Federation, and even for the Romulan Empire, up until about four years ago. Still, they were never very famous outside of the Empire—I'm surprised you two have heard of them—which is probably why there's not much internal interest in their activities. As in, the higher-ups don't get political points for dealing with something that's 'not a problem,' so they don't propose funding for it." She made a face. "I'll stop complaining. Anyway, after your house burned down, Spock, I looked into it. And what got me was the total lack of evidence. It was like somebody who really knew what they were doing had either set the fire themselves, or cleaned up after it. But despite this, they made sure the investigators, and even casual observers, would know that it was arson. Which just doesn't make any sense."

"Why did you look into the case?" Spock asked.

"For one, my kid brother was involved. And for another, as you said, Kirk, the incident was purposefully reminiscent of the destruction of the _Kelvin_ on Calder II, in which the Rihanh were probably involved."

"It sounds like you have had a hard time proving their involvement in anything."

"Right in one. And you know why?"

Spock frowned. "Why?"

"Cloaking device."

Kirk and Spock exchanged glances. "Invisibility is theoretically possible," said Spock skeptically. "Selectively bending light…. But the power cost is enormous."

"They solved that, we think." said Miko. "The Rihanh. This is, by the way, one of the reasons the Rihanh are so dangerous. They have an incredible grasp of advanced sciences. They recruit from top Romulan universities."

"You speak of them in the present tense," said Spock.

Miko nodded. "I believe that the events of this year are proof that they still exist," she said. "I think they've developed a personal cloaking device. I think that they 'disbanded' four years ago so that they could start working in secret. But I can't prove any of this, and I don't know what their goal is."

"How do you think Nero is involved?" said Kirk.

"I'm not sure he is," said Miko. "But I know he is."

"That is illogical," said Spock.

"Yup," said Miko. "And it drives me crazy. If he is involved, he hasn't done anything right—or, as you say, logically. His actions don't make any sense. He moved here four years ago and proceeded to buy an apartment in the Tenderloin, make some Romulan friends, and enroll himself in school." She pulled a PADD out of her purse and handed it to Spock. "Here's his file. Again, we can't pin him—or anybody—for the murder of his family. It's incredibly frustrating. The phaser Ayel threatened you with at the first hovercar race, Spock; it disappeared completely. And why would Nero let Ayel do that? Why would he want to kill you, right there? And why did he even create a hovercar team? All of the Romulans who are in it have some connection to the Rihanh, even if it's vague—and the vagueness is clearly what is connecting them, because every Romulan at Pride High who _does_ have a connection _is_ in the club, and every one that doesn't _isn't_ in the club. And we have to ask, who is in charge of Nero? He has no guardian. We have identified no other potential Rihanh leader."

Miko stopped; their waiter had approached with the food. He sat Kirk's multitudinous plates down first, then Spock's tea and toast.

They ate for a few minutes, thinking.

"What can you tell us, definitively?" said Kirk at last.

Miko wiped her mouth. "Three things. First, that Nero has been involved in a number of violent incidents. Second, that he is undeniably connected to the Rihanh. And third, his main target, for the moment, is Spock, and the Enterprise High hovercar club. All of you, except for Montgomery Scott, have familial connections to the Federation's old Rihanh project."

"And why is that?" said Spock. "How did that happen?"

Miko sighed. "As far as I can tell, it's a simple coincidence," she said. "There are about ten other people at Enterprise High who also have familial connections to the Rihanh project, but their connections are not quite as… direct. For everyone in your club—again, except for Montgomery Scott—the connection comes from a sibling, parent, or grandparent." Miko paused, eyes narrowed. "You already know this, I assume?"

"Yes," said Kirk. "My dad, Spock's dad, Bo—Leonard McCoy's grandmothers, Nyota Uhura's mother, Pavel Chekov's mother, Christine Chapel's mother, and… Hikaru's sister."

"Exactly," said Miko.

Spock thought that Miko looked slightly different as she said this. Her coffee cup covered her mouth when she spoke, and her hands twitched slightly. He thought she might be lying.

"What do you think about Scotty?" asked Kirk.

Miko shook her head. "I have no idea. I've done some pretty heavy research on him. His parents were friends with Uhura's mother, but that doesn't imply a thing, and unless they were really, really secret agents, they were not involved with the Federation or Starfleet at all, even outside of an anti-Rihanh capacity. His grandparents are clear, his aunts and uncles and cousins and great aunts and uncles and great-grand parents and second cousins and third cousins and even family friends—there's nothing. I can't think what I would have missed. No employers, either. No family doctors. No people who were close them, even in a professional capacity. No objects they own—I, um, might have broken into their house a while back. And their family's houses."

Spock raised a judgmental eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know," said Miko guiltily. "But I was in Scotland anyway, a while ago, and I was kind of bored. I don't just cover the Rihanh, since the Federation doesn't consider them a threat. But you don't need to know that.

"Here's what puzzles me the most: Today. Why was Spock warned not to pursue his line of thought? How did the person, who was probably a Romulan, know what Spock was doing anyway? Having illegal access to the Archives is a serious offense, and it takes _really_ serious technical skill to get that access. And what was their purpose in threatening Spock? Why take such a risk? They could have acted after the two of you had left the Archives." She shook her head. "I have no answers. I wish I could be of more help."

"You knew why we were looking up the Rihanh," said Spock. "Why did you ask us, then?"

Miko shrugged. "Standard procedure," she said, and again, Spock noticed the way she covered her mouth as she spoke, this time with a forkful of egg.

They finished their food, tossing ideas around. Almost as soon as he was done, Kirk said he had to go, and saying goodbye to Miko, who promised she would keep in touch, Kirk dragged Spock out of the restaurant.

He let out a heavy sigh as he flopped back against his motorcycle. "We're alive," he said.

"Of course we are," said Spock. "It is curious that Commander Sulu was unable to tell us very much."

"Yeah," said Kirk, digging for his key card in his pocket. "She was definitely lying at a few points, don't you think?" He started the bike. "We should go talk to everybody. I told Bones I was going to come over yesterday, and then I had to reschedule because of this, so I'll drop you off at your house, and you go collect Hikaru, Pavel, and Christine, and I'll—I'll talk to Bones."

Spock was curious. "Why will your discussion take such a long duration of time?" he asked.

"We've got something to discuss," said Kirk. He sighed. "I'll admit, I'm going to try to get around it." He seemed to make up his mind about something. "Actually, listen. You just get Hikaru and Pavel. _I'll_ get Christine. I'll talk to Bones later."

"You should not avoid things unnecessarily," Spock said. "It is better to deal with events and issues before they become complications."

"Oh, this is already a complication. A few more days won't hurt," said Kirk. "Come on, I'm already late."

Trying not to look too happy about it, Spock climbed back onto the motorcycle.

It was Kirk's turn to daydream about Spock. He had been feeling a huge influx of emotions in the past twenty-four hours, and other than in Spock's apartment, he had been almost too busy to remember his attraction to the half-Vulcan. He took off, and zoomed around turns faster than necessary just so that Spock would cling tighter to him, and threw on the brakes so that Spock's body would press against his. He imagined stopping at a light, turning around, taking Spock's chin in his palm, and kissing him like the world was ending. In fact, he imagined this for quite a while.

"We should meet at Nyota's residence," said Spock unexpectedly in his ear, as they were stopped at a light near Spock's home. (Twenty-third century motorcycle helmets had sophisticated audio systems, allowing their wearer to hear quite well even through an inch and a half of padding.) Kirk jumped.

"Okay," he said. "Sure." He felt Spock's face hovering near him, and his muscles tensed. _Do it_, he told himself. _Rip your helmets off. Just kiss him_. But the light turned green. And anyway, he thought as he pressed the throttle and felt Spock lean back, Spock didn't like him. Spock thought he was incredibly irritating. He had shown no sign of attraction so far, and why should he? Spock was not the type of person to admit to an attraction to someone like Kirk—really, to be _attracted_ to someone like Kirk. He would think that such an attraction would be… illogical.

Kirk wasn't far from right: Spock _did_ think that his attraction was illogical. But it didn't matter. Kirk pulled up in front of the Vulcan embassy, and Spock slid sadly off the motorcycle, his hand lingering near Kirk's warmth.

"See you in a few," said Kirk. "Give Nyota a call to let her know we're coming, okay?"

"I shall," said Spock.

Kirk sped off.

x


	32. Chapter 32: An Interval

A/N: This is a flashforward that takes place on Christmas Day. I'll get back to the action with the next chapter.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Thirty-Two: An Interval_

x

Jim's motorcycle had broken down on Christmas Eve. Actually, Sam had been riding it and had run into a tree. Sadly, he was uninjured in the crash, and said he'd fix it, but until then, Jim was stuck with his ancient bicycle as his only means of transportation. Sam squirted some oil on the chain and pronounced it rideable. Jim gave him the evilest of looks, but there wasn't really much Sam could do. It would have been completely unreasonable to ask him to fix the motorcycle on Christmas Day.

In truth, Kirk could have done it himself, but he incredibly stubborn, and he'd just finished Spock's present, which had a huge mechanical component: he was done with building things for a while. So on his decrepit bicycle, Kirk rode around to everybody's house—Bones, Chekov, Chapel; everybody in the hoverclub, plus a few more (like Gaila and Gary Mitchell)—delivering his presents.

Despite his family's poverty, Kirk got a present for every one of his friends and family members each year. To his surprise, most of his friends had presents for him too, and he became an accidental delivery boy, because, upon hearing where he was going next, they would beg him to deliver a parcel. Thus, by the time he got to the Vulcan embassy, Kirk had a heap of brightly wrapped boxes tied unsteadily to the back of his bike.

The guard on duty raised his eyebrow in the trademark Vulcan fashion. Kirk put on the brakes and smiled as nicely as he could at the guard.

"I'm here to see Spock, son of Sarek," he said. He gestured to the gifts. "Special delivery. Or, special deliverie_s_."

"Do you have an appointment," said the guard, in a remarkable vocal approximation of a robot.

"Yes?" hazarded Kirk.

The guard let him in.

Kirk had to leave his bike inside the interior courtyard, but a helpful carrybot lugged half of the packages up the stairs for him (Vulcans were evidently fans of physical exercises, not turbolifts. Kirk thought this was typical). When Spock finally opened his door, after a knock, to find Kirk surrounded by presents, Kirk was panting heavily.

"These aren't all from me," Kirk said hastily. "I stopped by, um, everybody's house beforehand, and, well, they all had something to give you."

Spock watched in some wonder as Kirk carried half of the heap of presents into Spock's dining room and set them down all over the table.

"Scotty had to tie them onto my bike for me," Kirk huffed, going back for another load. "Gaila had, like, three different things for you, and so did Nyota. Here's _one_ of hers…"

With Kirk supervising, Spock unwrapped his presents. Kirk got more and more worried. Everybody had gotten Spock various perfect items, like a copy of Gottlob Frege's _Begriffsschrift_ (in the original German, which Spock could evidently read—Kirk felt this was equally preposterous and adorable) and a set of meditation candles. Kirk pointed out a little, rather battered package as the last present.

"Oh," said Spock politely, hefting the parcel. "And who is this from?"

"Me," said Kirk.

Spock opened it. He got an even politer expression on his face as he turned the object he had extracted from the wrapping around in his hands.

"It is… interesting," said Spock. He pursed his lips. "Exactly _what_ is it?"

"It's a glasses case," said Kirk, scooting forward. "But I knew you like puzzles, so, it's a puzzle box. You have to figure out how to open it."

Spock's eyes narrowed. He poked at the box. It was two handspans long, one wide, and made of a delicate wood that Kirk had found at a local bay market a month ago.

Kirk watched in some amusement as Spock worked out how the box opened. It took quite some time, nearly ten minutes, but Spock was utterly enthralled—as was Kirk. It was a huge pleasure to watch Spock concentrate on minute details, to watch his mind click like well-oiled clockwork over the various possibilities before him. For some reason, the look on his face as he concentrated on the case made Kirk's affection for him double in the space of minutes. By the time he had laid the empty insides bare, Spock looked positively euphoric, an expression that had been building the entire time. Kirk had appreciated not just the destination, but the journey as well.

"It resets when you close it," said Kirk. "It has about a hundred different opening patterns. It'll take you a while to find all of them, I think. And it was damn hard to make."

Spock looked over his glasses at him. "You made this?"

Kirk shifted on his tired feet. "Yeah. Had some free time."

Spock blinked once or twice. "A remarkable feat," he said thoughtfully. "Thank you, James."

"You're welcome. You can call me Jim, you know."

"Yes, I know," said Spock. He set the case down. "I will retrieve your present," he said a little more loudly than was necessary.

"You got me something—?" But Spock had already disappeared into the hallway. He was back in moments, carrying a thin, beautifully wrapped package that, when Kirk took it from his hands, proved to be soft and flexible.

Tearing off the tissue paper revealed a thick, finely woven scarf about six feet long with blue and gold stripes. Kirk immediately wrapped it around his neck with a wide smile, the tassels coming around to whack him in the nose.

"I love it!" he enthused, stroking the fine fabric. Spock watched him twirl around. His eyes matched the blue exactly (that had been on purpose), and the gold brought out the fiery light in his thatch of blond hair.

"I am glad," murmured Spock. "I very much enjoyed knitting it."

"Are you _serious_?" said Kirk, unwrapping one loop of the scarf and peering at it. "It looks professional! Do you knit _all_ the time, or something?"

"I have only knitted once before," said Spock, before he could stop himself. "I made my mother a scarf years ago. She wore it until it fell apart."

Kirk put down the end of the scarf slowly. Then he sighed, and stared at the floor.

"Yeah," he said, his voice heavy. "I made my mom a puzzle box a few years back. It… it broke, last May."

They both looked up, and into each other's eyes, at the same time. "I'm sorry," they said together. Kirk smiled, and Spock nearly did. Then Kirk, before he could stop himself, went across the room and hugged Spock.

It was a brief hug, but it spoke volumes. Society had done away with one-armed, side-by-side man hugs centuries ago, so what Kirk gave Spock was the real thing. But Kirk and Spock, it was important to say, had never hugged before. It was almost too much for both of them. Kirk bit his lip and lost himself in the smoothness of Spock's form, and Spock, with his incredible sense of smell, turned his head slightly and got a positively intoxicating whiff of Kirk's hair.

After only seconds, they broke, Kirk trying to smile and Spock trying to be remote.

"Well," said Kirk awkwardly. "Merry Christmas."

"To you as well," said Spock. He sounded more sincere than Kirk had ever heard him.

"We should hang out, over break," Kirk offered. "Or something."

"That would be pleasurable," said Spock. He picked up the glasses case. "I will attempt to learn the tricks to this gift before we meet again. Thank you, again, for constructing it for me."

"You're welcome. And the scarf—it's amazing." Kirk buried the bottom part of his face in a tasseled end, smiling shyly, and Spock, who had never really been one for cute things, found this utterly adorable.

They exchanged a few more farewells, and finally, Kirk left.

_That made my day_, Kirk thought happily as he took the stairs three at a time, the scarf snug around his neck.

_I have rarely been so pleased_, Spock thought contentedly as he settled down to work on the puzzle.

x


	33. Chapter 33: Requiem for Methuselah

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Thirty-Three: Requiem for Methuselah_

x

At Bones's house, Kirk had a hard time convincing him to leave.

"You're tellin' me Spock just got warned—by a mask with a phaser—not to look into this?" Bones laughed nervously and closed the front door so that all Kirk could see was a single eye. "And you want me to get involved anyway? Sorry, but fuck off."

"Come on, Bones," said Kirk impatiently. "I have to go get Christine after you. She won't take any convincing. You're just afraid."

"Damn right I'm afraid! I'm a downright coward and I'm willin' to admit it! If you say my grandmothers are involved, I'll go disown 'em right now!"

"Bones. Seriously. This is real. Hikaru's sister is a special agent. And Nyota's mom was probably killed by these people. My dad _definitely_ was."

"Well, I'm real sorry for Nyota, and for you, o'course, but that makes me even less interested in comin' with ya."

Kirk finally had to drag Bones bodily from his house, a difficult proposition. Since Kirk, as a swimmer and soccer player, had much more stamina than Bones, he finally won. Bones gave in by the time Kirk got him to his truck and went back into his house to get a blackout jacket and (Kirk suspected) a steak knife. He also came armed with hand sanitizer.

Kirk gave him a look.

"You never know," Bones muttered, burying the bottle in his pocket and pulling the hood of the jacket over his head. Kirk just rolled his eyes and got into Bones's truck, leaving his motorcycle at Bones's house.

They picked up Chapel and motored to Uhura's house, where Spock, Chekov, Sulu, and (unexpectedly) Scotty were waiting for them.

Kirk drew Spock to one side. "Why is he here?" he asked in a whisper.

"He is in the hovercar club, is he not?" said Spock. "I suspected that he might know how he is involved, and even if he is not, it would be unfair to keep him uninformed."

Spock had a point.

"Before we go into Nyota's," said Kirk, coming back over to the group, "I have a question. Scotty, do you know anything about the Rihanh?"

"Are these th' Romulan fellows you lot have been talkin' about?" said Scotty.

"The very same."

"Ah don't," said Scotty, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Me dad's a cook and me mam's a lawyer, and ah don't think either o' them had a thing t'do with any Romulans. But ah can ask."

"That'd be wonderful," said Kirk. "Alright. Let's go talk about this."

They filed up to Uhura's front door and rang the bell. She answered it promptly, blinking at them.

"Uh," said Kirk awkwardly, realizing that he had been informally elected leader. "Hey. Can we come in?"

"Yes…" said Uhura, gesturing them inside. "What's up?"

"Well, there was an incident," said Kirk, entering first. "Where's your dad?" He settled down on the floor of Uhura's living room.

"Errands," said Uhura, sitting down across from him. Her eyes were narrowed.

"Okay, good," said Kirk. "We… well, we have some news about your mom."

Uhura's eyes went wide, then sad. "How could you?" she said. "She died, you know."

"Yes—I mean, news about her death. I think you should read this." Kirk handed her the original printout he had ordered from his mother's computer.

Uhura began to read it, then stopped.

"I'm going to go in here," she said, gesturing towards the dining room. Everybody nodded. Kirk noticed that Spock's legs twitched; the half-Vulcan started after her, real concern in his eyes. Kirk put a steadying hand on Spock's thigh.

In the dining room, Uhura read. _… leak in phosgene storage tank… security breach suspected; unproven… Admiral Kabwegyere collapsed… effectively saved lives of Lt. Cmndr. Chapel and Ensign Hiaasen… … pronounced dead… body released to family at 8:00, 2221.10.27_.

She remembered that. She remembered standing next to her father. It was a cloudy morning—still dark, still cold. Just four days before Halloween. He had dressed her formally, slowly, hours ago, and all of her family was there. He looked… Uhura covered her eyes, breathing. This was so clear in her mind's sharp eye. He looked nonplussed. He looked confused. Everyone else was sad, but he was just baffled. How sudden it was. How unexpected. She remembered the coffin itself, draped in the Federation flag. It had never been opened. She did not remember the last time she saw her mother alive. But she remembered the white-gloved soldiers, eight of them, and the twenty-one phaser salute at the funeral (the days blended together when she was four). She remembered the smell of everyone else's salty tears. She remembered her father's most common pose: his head tucked into his hands, his feet spread apart, the back of his neck bare and open.

Tears leaked down her cheek. Air moved differently around her; it always did when she cried. But she was not really crying. She was recalling, vividly. Who was that woman? Impressions of wide hands, and a voice she loved; sitting in a car and watching the big shape in front of her turn around and tickle her nose. And that was it. That was all she had of Itidal Kabwegyere. The name, like a familiar taste, like a food you ate too much when you were little and were only just now beginning to try again. And a few gray memories.

She brushed the tears impatiently aside and bit her lip. Then she looked at the printout again.

_Suspected sabotage; unproven. Security breach suspected; unproven_.

Like a pouncing cat, like a comet, her anger moved. It swamped her. Nyota Uhura had always had a temper. But this—this was _beyond_ temper. She couldn't remember her mother. Not a damn thing. And whose fault was that? She had read the rest of the report. The Rihanh. The Rihanh. These Romulans, with motives unknown. She didn't give a fuck about their motives. She gave a fuck about the sound their necks would make when they were snapped.

She composed herself only slightly and went back into the living room.

"So," she said, "what's the plan?"

x

And therein laid their problem: they couldn't come up with a plan.

Uhura, strangely, was the strongest voice for patience. "They'll do something wrong," she said. "We'll catch them in the act. Until then, we just have to lay low; we don't want Spock to get killed, do we?"

Scotty glared at her. "You're th' one that wanted a plan," he said. "You really think just sittin' around will help?"

"In retrospect, I do," said Uhura calmly. She had locked the anger from before into a tight box that blazed in a corner of her brain. "We don't know what their goals are. We're not completely sure they exist. But we do know that _they_ know a lot about us, and we're not sure how much. And Miko said they have a cloaking device, which means that they could be anywhere. For now, we should wait and watch."

The discussion went on for a long time. Everyone expressed surprise and confusion at their connections to the Rihanh, and tried to figure out what Scotty's connection was. Finally they decided that he didn't have one, or if he did, then it was too hidden to dig up. Most of them had huge issues with their mutual connections being a simple coincidence, but there was nothing to be done about that problem.

Finally, Kirk said:

"Here's what we'll do. We watch Nero. We do some independent research on the Rihanh. We talk to the people we're related to who are connected to the Rihanh, if we can. And then we try to figure out a pattern." He looked around. "How does that sound?"

Everyone said that sounded good enough.

x

For everyone involved, the inaction was beyond frustrating, no matter how often they told themselves it was their only real option. Real spying was beyond them. All they could do was wait for Nero to do something wrong.

December passed quickly. Kirk came up with an idea for a present for Spock and started working on it. Bones bought tickets to see his grandmothers offplanet. Uhura tried to talk with her grandmother. Chekov and Sulu kept studying physics together. And Scotty and Spock spent an unusual amount of time in the garage with the _Enterprise_, keeping the hovercar warm and ready for the next race in January.

Christmas came and went. Kirk delivered presents to Spock. Uhura couldn't get her father and grandmother to reconcile, much to her despair, and remained at home with her father for the holiday. Sulu's sisters (and Sh'Ragh) showed up at his home for the holidays, making things marginally less explosive. Chekov talked to his mother, and she told him all about the Rihanh she could remember. It was quite a lot.

A week later, James Kirk celebrated the new year with his family in a distinctly Kirk fashion.

It was eleven at night and Winona had just finished making Sam put up the dishes when Jim, who was reading _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead_ on his PADD, heard Aurelan say, "_Ow_," very softly, in the next room.

He frowned at the PADD and clicked it off. She said "_Ow_" again, but it was now more of a hiss.

"Aurelan?" he got up and went in to her.

"Hey," she said tightly. She was in the dining room, sitting awkwardly in a chair and holding her stomach. Her mouth was in a tight line.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "Yeah. Fine." She pushed her fine brown hair out of her face, and he saw that her brows were narrowed in pain.

And then her eyelids flickered and she went completely limp, and fell heavily off the chair.

"SAM!" screamed Jim. "MOM! Aurelan—she's—" He ran to her and kneeled down, fumbling with his communicator. "_SAM_!"

Sam crashed into the room, heaved Aurelan easily into his arms, and dashed for the door. Winona had taken one look at the situation and gone for the car. By the time Sam got Aurelan outside, Winona had it waiting for him.

"Call the hospital, tell them to have a doctor ready," said Winona tightly to Jim, who had leapt into the front seat. "And hold on."

Neither Jim nor Sam had experienced Winona's best driving before that night, but now they did, although they were in no mood to appreciate it. Spock would have hired her on the spot to pilot the _Enterprise_, and it was easy to see where Jim got his natural skill. Winona got them to the hospital in two minutes. It was a drive that would have taken any other human, even one that was in a hurry, five, and ten for someone just rolling along at speed limit.

The hospital staff had barely gotten a stretcher together by the time Winona roared up. It took three nurses to load Aurelan onto that stretcher and two (plus Winona) to restrain Sam from following them so closely that they couldn't examine her. Jim went to park the car, which he did quite messily, but it didn't matter. He slammed the car into a space, put it in park, and leapt down onto the pavement from its height, locking it remotely as he ran flat-out across the parking lot. He dodged a gurney and a few lab-coated technicians before literally running into Winona, who was clutching Sam's arm with white-knuckled hands and trying to get him to sit down.

"News?" he panted, catching Winona so that she didn't stumble.

"None," growled Sam, boring a hole in the wall. "They took her back." He tore at his hair and refused to sit down. The three of them paced in the hallway outside of the examination rooms for several lengthy minutes.

When a doctor came out, Sam pounced on him.

"Ms. Swift is fine," said the doctor carefully. "The baby is as well, although we have not examined it as thoroughly. Ms. Swift has Rhyett's disease." Sam let out a long breath, and would have followed it with a cheer . "As you know, it's not serious, but during pregnancy Rhyett's has been known to cause complications. We can anticipate these and help Ms. Swift and her child to overcome any problems that may arise." The man smiled at Sam. "You are one of the child's parents, I assume?"

"Yes," said Sam, smiling.

"You can come back," said the doctor. He turned to Winona and Jim. "I'll come get both of you once Ms. Swift is completely stabilized."

"Thank you," said Winona passionately.

The doctor shrugged. "It's our job. If you'd like to come back, Mr…?"

"Kirk, Sam Kirk," said Sam. The doctor gestured him towards the door. "You can call me Sam…"

"Sam, you can call me Julian," said the doctor. They disappeared into the back. "Ms. Swift is going to be just fine," they heard him say.

"_Oh_ thank God," said Winona, finally collapsing into a chair. "That was just _horrifying_."

Jim couldn't even speak. He went and found water and brought some back for Winona. Soon enough, the doctor came back for them. Sam and Aurelan were in a small room. Aurelan was asleep, and Sam was staring intently at her heart monitor.

"Everyone's fine," he whispered, standing to hug Winona. "They're going to keep her for a day for observation." He hugged Jim too. They sat down as quietly as they could, but Aurelan woke up and turned over, smiling blearily.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I'm just fine, Winona, you and Jim can go home if you want. And Sam, you should go home too." She glanced upwards, and smiled as she looked back at them. "And happy new year."

Everyone's head whipped around to eyeball the clock. Indeed, it was five minutes past twelve. There was general consternation that they had missed midnight, but also an air of relieved celebration. And then, to everyone's horror, Winona actually started crying.

"I'm just so glad you idiots are my family," she sniffed, throwing her arms around her two boys. "I hate both of you. I do. You're terrible. And Aurelan, I don't know what you could be thinking."

"I don't either," said Aurelan, and her voice trembled worryingly.

"Quit that!" Sam protested. "Stop crying! You people are crazy!"

Of course, the doctor chose that moment to come check on Aurelan. Jim sighed and wondered what it would be like to have a normal family.

After the doctor left, an on-edge Jim went out into the hallway to breathe a little. He buried his face in the scarf he was wearing—the blue and gold scarf Spock had made for him. He felt better immediately.

x

Bones was at his grandmothers' house for the new year. They lived on Horca, a colony close to Earth. It was a tiny moon within the Solar System, near Pluto. It was an ordeal getting to Horca: since Bones hated space travel, beaming, and small spaces, and this was what travel to Horca involved, by the end of the journey, he was in an absolutely horrible mood.

Bones greeted his grandmothers at the spaceport by holding up his hand, solemnly, to stop them from hugging him, and proceeding into a bathroom to throw up.

"Kid needs to get used to space travel," said Rosie, slinging Bones's bag over her shoulder. "He does this every time."

"Give him a break," said Penny, peeking into the bathroom and then shutting the door hastily; Bones wasn't quite done yet. "He doesn't go offplanet very often."

Lesley just rolled her eyes.

After a while, Bones came out, trembling slightly and very pale. Penny cooed over him all the way home.

Looking at the three women, you could never tell that they had nearly two hundred and ten years of life between them. They looked like they were fifty, although they were all around seventy.

Horca was a small, icy planet with a Rocky Mountain-esque environment, appropriate for retired Southerners. Bones had spent a majority of his summers and winters on Horca, and no matter how airsick he felt, he was glad to be back.

The Dawes lived on the opposite side of the planet from the spaceport, but it did not take them very long to get to their ranch. Bones watched the small mountains slide by, the snow gleaming all around him. What green of the trees was visible shone like emeralds, and Bones rolled down the window a little to smell the air.

Lesley forded a little, icy river easily. Bones noticed as Lesley turned the wheel that her left hand was in a brace.

"What happened?" Bones asked.

Lesley glared at Penny, who grinned back at her. "Your gran dropped a stack o' wood on my hand," she said. "I told doc to put it in a brace so I wouldn't have to do dishes."

"I wasn't even involved, and now _I_ have to do the dishes," said Rosie forlornly. Bones laughed.

Bones tried to stay awake for dinner, he really did, but he was tired out. Lesley had to nearly carry him to bed, which was difficult for the old woman, since Bones was about a head and a half taller than her. "We'll go see the river and go hikin' tomorrow," said Lesley, patting Bones's quilted legs. "Lights," she added, and the room became dark. Bones pulled the covers up to his neck. "We're glad to have you, Leo."

"Glad t'be here, gram," Bones muttered, and fell asleep.

x

Bones staggered downstairs the next morning and peered blearily out the window. The snow nearly blinded him. A cave-bird, a feathery lizard with wings that was native to Horca, flitted past the window. It flitted back, got close to the glass where Bones was standing, and flicked its tongue at him. Bones glared at it.

"Quit antagonizin' the wildlife," said Penny from the kitchen. "I made breakfast. Hungry?"

"Starvin'," said Bones. "Good mornin', gran. Where's gram and grand?"

"Lesley and Rosie're on a walk," said Penny, flipping a few strands of bacon onto an absorption-platter and turning off the gas stove. "They're gettin' warmed up for our hike."

"Where're we goin'?"

"Probably 'round Ape Peak." Penny pushed a plate in front of Bones. It was beautiful and steaming: round, sparkling fried eggs were nearly covered in shredded potato spiced with pepper and ch'rann, five marbled strips of bacon curled on the plate's left edge, and three thick slices of oat bread had been doused in butter and eglontir jam.

"Steamed some tomatoes, too," said Penny, sitting down next to Bones with a plate of her own. "Lemmie know if you want one."

"Sure thing," said Bones, cutting the egg yolk open and letting it mix with the hash browns. "Thanks, this looks delicious."

They ate in silence for a while. Penny was the least talkative of the Dawes, but her silences were comfortable.

After he'd polished off the bacon, Bones got up enough courage to ask.

"So how long were y'all spies for?"

Penny paused in the middle of a bite of toast. "Spies?" she said blankly.

"Yeah. Spies for the Federation. I heard y'all infiltrated the Rihanh."

Penny peered at him. "Leonard Horatio McCoy, I have no idea what you're talkin' about."

"'Course you don't," said Bones. "You're not s'posed to talk about it, are you? Listen, my friends and me, we think the Rihanh are still operating. I was wonderin' what you know."

Penny licked her lips. "Leonard," she said patiently. "Your grandmothers and I were in Starfleet, but we weren't spies."

Bones looked at her for a while. "You've got somethin' on your cheek," he finally said.

"What? Oh." Penny leaned forward so Bones could reach her face. Bones didn't blink. He ran his fingers in quick succession over the tip of her ear and the ridge above her eyebrow. Penny drew back in surprise.

"You," said Bones triumphantly, "have had plastic surgery. Implants were removed, and they gave you a face-lift in the process. That's why you look so young."

Lesley and Rosie chose that moment to arrive back at the house, announcing their presence by banging the door open and wiping their feet noisily all over the welcome mat. Penny got up quickly, whisking her unfinished breakfast over to the recycler. "Leo says he's ready for the hike," she said to Lesley and Rosie, speaking more quickly than she usually did.

"Already?" said Rosie, her nostrils flaring. "But you made eggs—"

"Yep," said Penny firmly, pushing Lesley and Rosie back outside. "But we're leavin' now. Leo, go put your boots on. We'll be outside."

Bones ran upstairs, threw on his hiking boots and a jacket, grabbed his communicator, PADD, and backpack, and shot back downstairs. He filled up his water bottle and snatched some hard-boiled eggs out of the fridge, figuring that his grandmothers would bring the rest of the food.

When he got outside they were all glaring at him. He smiled as charmingly as he could and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "We ready?" he asked brightly.

"Yes," said Penny shortly. "Come on."

Three hours later, Bones wanted to _die_.

"Okay," he said, sitting down in the middle of the trail and refusing to move. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry I asked. Please can we rest. I think my lungs are gonna collapse."

Penny had led her wives and grandson around the shadow side of Ape Peak and into the really rugged regions of Horca. They had walked along an icy valley for a while, forded what felt like a hundred streams (in reality, it was nine, two of which had wood bridges, four of which had log bridges, and three of which didn't have bridges at all), and finally walked up and down and over and through and across five snowy mountains, until Bones just could not take it anymore.

"Fifteen more minutes," said Penny, coming back to him and looking a little chastised. "There's a clearin' we're stoppin' for lunch in."

Bones hauled himself up and limped the rest of the way to the clearing. His grandmothers were bustling around, setting up a fire and getting out food. Lesley handed Bones another water bottle, which he drained. Finally they started eating.

By the end of the meal, Bones felt like a new man. He put his SpagBol aside and fixed his grandmothers with a beady eye.

Lesley put her hand out. "Wait." She extracted a funny-looking PADD covered in sensor-wire and tapped at it. "Okay, we're good," she said, looking up.

"What's that?" said Bones.

"A little miracle we came up with a while ago," said Lesley, passing it to him. "It senses all the technology in the region. You've got a PADD in your backpack and a communicator in your right hip pocket. The important thing is that it can sense Romulan cloakin' devices."

"Hah!" said Bones, aiming a finger at each of them. "I knew you were involved with Romulans!"

"Of course we were, how do you think we got enough money to retire out here?" said Rosie. "We were the best spies the Federation has ever seen. At least until I blew our cover."

Lesley and Penny sighed. This was clearly an old topic. Rosie looked unusually chastened.

"It was pretty bad," she said. "Anyway, yes, we know all about the Rihanh, and we have had plastic surgery, and you have got to not talk about them when the area hasn't been cleared first, okay?"

"How come?"

"Cloakin' devices, of course."

"Listen, do y'all have any proof that? That's what Miko Sulu said Jim and my friend Spock, too."

"Miko Sulu talked to Jim Kirk and Spock about the Rihanh?" said Rosie, surprised. "Well, that was a dumbass move on her part."

"Spock was gettin' ambushed in the Federation Archives. She saved his ass, from what I heard."

"That's likely. The girl was always overenthusiastic."

"Good fighter, though," Penny put in.

"Very sexy," Lesley added.

Bones did not want to hear that. "_Anyway_," he said pointedly. "We've started an investigation of our own." He outlined what they knew. "Can you help us out?"

"I believe we can," said Penny. "We can offer you proof that Nero killed his parents."

"What?" said Bones.

"It's legitimate," said Lesley, "but illegally obtained, and can't be used against him in a Federation court of law. It's Romulan evidence, never applied because Nero fled to Earth before he could be arrested by the Empire, and the Federation wouldn't extradite based on the evidence I'm talking about… You want to see it?"

He didn't, really, but figured that he was obligated to collect the information. "Alright," he said uncomfortably. "Where is it?"

"In here," said Lesley, and Bones realized that she was holding a very small remote control that had a very large blue button on it. Lesley pressed the button and the campfire disappeared.

Bones would not admit this later, but he let out an extremely high-pitched shriek when he saw the hole where the campfire was. He also fell hugely backwards and upended the remains of his SpagBol. Rosie and Lesley suppressed their laughter, but Penny giggled and went to help Bones up.

"We built a Batcave," Penny explained kindly.

Bones walked forwards cautiously and peered into the hole. Small lights lit up a ladder, heading straight down into darkness.

"Why?"

Penny shrugged. "We've been retired for years now. We didn't have much else to do."

Lesley went in first, then Bones, then Penny and Rosie. Lesley called "LIGHTS!" as she went, and Bones gradually became able to see the size and scale of the place.

It was indeed a cave—a _huge_ one, long and flat and with a curved, stalactite-encrusted roof. It was wet and cold and gray-blue and Bones was inherently afraid of the vast shadows living beyond the halogen lights.

There were a few human amenities spread around the cave. One sunken area, near an actual lake, was a living room, complete with couches and a bookshelf. There was even a partially enclosed bedroom nearby. And there was a datastation, next to a well-stocked kitchen. It had a user-accessible VREE—that is, you could watch the file you chose from within the virtual reality, heightening the experience of it.

"The file is in the VREE," said Lesley, gesturing towards it. "You're nineteen, right? You're probably old enough to see it."

"What does that mean?" said Bones, some panic surfacing in his voice.

"Well, it's a bit…" Lesley tried.

"It's kind of disturbin'," said Rosie frankly. "And I don't think you should watch it."

"I think I'll be fine," said Bones, more bravely than he felt. "I've got a good stomach for violence. I want to be a doctor, after all."

"Then go ahead," said Rosie. "We're here, okay?" She hugged him loosely.

_Good sign_, thought Bones. "I'll be out in a bit," he said, and stepped into the VREE.

x

It was a recording of a confession, and it started _in media res_.

"Okay, okay, I was there, I was there," Bones heard a voice sobbing. The screen was black. The view shifted abruptly, making his stomach turn, and focused on a solitary figure sitting chained to a chair in a concrete room. Bones was horrified: he thought torture chambers such as these had died out in the twenty-first century. The figure was Romulan, and female. She had forehead ridges, a characteristic that Nero and many of his cohorts lacked, and was dressed in a prison uniform. She looked to be about forty years old. She was not beautiful, but she was striking—her long black hair was a halo around her sharp face, and she had incredibly large, expressive eyes.

"Where were you," said a steely, unkind voice: it was not a question. Bones glanced quickly at the notes on the file; the entire conversation was being translated from Romulan to Standard English.

"I was in the house. I was—I was g-going to do it, I had a knife, he'd hired me."

"Who hired you?"

The woman was silent, her eyes tight shut. A hulking figure appeared out of the shadows—another Romulan, also a woman, thick and dressed in a stark gray uniform. She held a brick.

"Who hired you?" the interrogator repeated.

The woman started crying. Tears fell from her eyes like dimes. The interrogator brought the brick down on the woman's collarbone. It cracked, the sound like a gunshot. The woman screamed for a full minute, her wide-eyes bloodshot and rolling.

"Nero—Nero, son of N'Xere, son of N'Kide—Nero hired me to kill them," the woman said breathlessly. A yellow light appeared around her lips. A comment appeared to the side of the scene: _Vericator in use_. It meant that the woman was speaking the truth.

"But you didn't kill them," said the interrogator.

"No, I didn't, I just—I came in through the back, and was going to slit their throats while they were asleep, but I g-got upstairs, and Nero was standing on the landing. He told me to be quiet and took my knife and went into their bedroom—"

"Into his parents' bedroom?"

"Into his adoptive parents' bedroom, yes—"

The interrogator struck again, this time on the woman's kneecap. Bones wished he could close his eyes and stop his ears, but you could not do that within a recorded virtual reality.

The woman hung from her chains, sobbing. "N'Xere and Mhae were Nero's father and mother," said the interrogator. "Do not argue with me." She nudged the woman's broken knee and the woman screamed again.

After the woman had recovered herself, the interrogator went on. "You were going to kill his parents."

"Y-yes, but he t-took the knife—I'd never seen anything like it. He just walked into the room and didn't even hesitate. He slashed—he slashed N-N'Xere's throat like it was just nothing, nothing." The yellow light pulsed at the woman's ragged lips. She was still telling the truth. "I didn't expect it at all, and I screamed. Nero, he didn't even seem to notice, he just crossed to the other side and—he—he had to h-hold down his mo—Mhae, and she—" The woman stopped, evidently unable to continue.

"Selaar," said the interrogator. The woman looked up: _Selaar_ was evidently her name. "You've killed forty-three people. How can you not describe this?"

Bones could not grasp the tone in the interrogator's voice. It was shocked, hushed, but also hateful and blunt. It was a thick web of emotions, hidden behind a bloody brick.

"I just," said Selaar, her voice hoarse, "I'd never had to watch a child kill his mother. It's different, when the person struggles, when they're expecting it." She paused. "It's different, when you see it in their eyes."

The Vericator light went green, showing that an opinion had been expressed that could not be verified. The camera moved again, then went off. The file was over. The virtual reality lifted.

Bones felt sick. He sat in the machine's darkness for a moment, listening to it cool down. He had met this boy, talked to him… Nero had _done_ that, to the people who had raised him for fourteen years. He couldn't even—he could not possibly begin to comprehend that. Who could? It was unbelievable. It was hideous, and it was undeniable, and it was a dark thing in a deep place of true evil that somebody could do. Bones understood what Spock felt, what Uhura felt, what Kirk felt when they thought about Nero. This was violence and chaos, in a single being. This was terrifying and unstoppable and _present._ This was something that he wanted to run from and never stop running from; or something he wanted to face armed to the teeth and backed by a horde.

"There was a Vericator," he said dumbly to his grandmothers as he left the machine. "Wouldn't the Federation take that as evidence?"

"No," said Rosie, her voice hollow. "As I said, it was a confession obtained under torture. Even though it was truthful, it was—"

"Against the laws of man and God," said Bones softly.

"Yes," said Rosie. "There was no good there. Selaar was executed a month after that recordin' was made. The interrogator is still working for the Empire."

Bones went to sit on a sawed-off stalagmite. Lesley brought him some hot tea, which he drank slowly.

"Great way to start off January," he muttered.

x


	34. Ch 34: What Are Little Girls Made Of?

A/N: The point of plot is not the plot itself, but how people's minds and hearts change as things happen to them. How else could you grow if the world did not shift unexpectedly around you? For a species capable of making up its own mind, we very often fail to do so with any discernable level of determination, and so the course of events shapes us more than we could ever shape ourselves.

Not that any of you could ever take me seriously after reading the title for this chapter. *grin*

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Thirty-Four: What Are Little Girls Made Of?_

x

Bones got back to Earth just in time for school to start.

He told everybody about what he had seen—about Selaar and Nero's involvement in his parents' death—individually. It was horrible having to repeat the story seven times, but he knew that the impact of it would have not been the same had he told them as a group.

Surprisingly, it was Chekov that had the worst reaction. He broke a lamp in his bedroom. Bones realized that of all of those involved—excepting Scotty, as usual—Chekov was the only one whose parent had not been directly threatened by the Rihanh. Chekov had told them himself that his mother, Lidiya Garikov, even though she led the department with Itidal Kabwegyere, had never been on a mission: Lidiya was an investigator, somebody who solved the clues when they were given to her. She was not a soldier, or even a police officer; she had never been on a mission. So she had been safe from many of the attempts the Rihanh had made against Starfleet.

Bones realized that this revelation scared Chekov more than it scared anybody else. Kirk, Spock, and Uhura's families had been directly affected, Chapel's mother had almost died, and Sulu was sure his sister was in danger. But Chekov had never really been at risk simply because the risk had not seemed real. And now it was.

In addition to passing around this information about Nero, Bones confronted Kirk.

Bones had been willing to give Kirk some leeway when it came to talking about—whatever it was that they were going to talk about. First, it was finals that delayed their discussion; Kirk said he just _had_ to study, even though he had yet to make as low as a 99 in most of his classes. Then it was the break, and Kirk said he had to be with his family. So Bones let it go for a while, bringing the promise up occasionally at the end of an email. Kirk would always say something along the lines of, "Oh, sure, we can talk about that whenever you get back"—or ignore it. More often, the latter occurred.

It was the first day of classes after the winter holiday when Bones moved. Thirty minutes before school started, Bones, from his pickup, saw Kirk walking across the parking lot, his motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm. Bones snatched his backbag and pelted out of his car and over to Kirk.

"Um," said Kirk, alarmed. He'd stopped in his tracks. "Hey? Happy to see me?"

"Yeah," said Bones shortly, grabbing Kirk's arm and dragging him over to the same dragon tree that Kirk had once seen Spock and Uhura making out under. (Kirk shuddered at the memory, and realized that he had been so up in arms about their relationship because he evidently had a crush on Spock at that point; who knew?)

"So, what's up?" said Kirk, pulling the wrinkles out of his jacket where Bones had grabbed him.

"You've been delayin' our talk," said Bones. "Let's have it."

Kirk went pale. "Now is a terrible time," he hedged.

"I'm sure it is," said Bones, "but you haven't been particularly receptive to my attempts to schedule a _better_ time."

"Haven't you taken a psychology class? It's because I don't want to talk."

"Of course you don't, but you said you would, and you owe it to me," said Bones. He leaned forwards, noticing how _small_ Kirk had become, like his friend was trying to curl in on himself. "Jim, I am _worried_ about you. I'm not particularly astute when it comes to people but it is abundantly clear to me that there is somethin' wrong."

"There _was_ something wrong," said Kirk firmly. "It's in the past."

"Is anythin'?"

"How philosophical. _Yes_, things can happen and then they _stop_ happening, it's a basic principle of functioning life, okay? I really—listen, if it comes to it, Bones—I don't want to talk to you about this."

Bone was quiet for a while.

"If you really feel that way," he said, "then it's your choice, of course." He looked Kirk levelly in the eye. "But if you don't talk to me, you should talk to _someone_."

"I talk to a psych once a week," said Kirk defensively.

"I know," said Bones. "You—" Bones paused at the look on Kirk's face. "What?"

"How do you know I talk to a psych once a week?"

"You said you'd tried to kill yourself. That means you have a mental soundness marker on your Federation health file. _That_ means that you have to talk to a psychologist once a week for the first ten years after the marker is put on, then once a month for the _next_ ten years, and… quit lookin' at me like that—I want to be a doctor. I know these things."

"You _knew_ I was seeing a psychologist and you didn't say anything."

"Why would I? There's nothin' wrong with it. It's a good idea. Everybody should see one at least once in their lives."

Kirk stared at him. "There's nothing wrong with it," he repeated. He was astounded at the idea.

Bones looked at Kirk as if he thought Kirk were crazy. "_There's nothing wrong with it_," Bones said again. "Yes. You think everybody's perfect or somethin'? I saw a shrink every week this summer, and it really helped. Never had before, but it was worth it."

This was a revelation to Kirk. He'd had any number of psychologists and none of them had ever said that theirs was a common job. "Wow. Okay," said Kirk. "Well. I'm just going to go now—"

He tried to sidle away but Bones hooked his shirt. "Oh, no ya don't. Jim, why'd you try to kill yourself?"

"You are completely tactless! You can't just ask me that!"

"I can too. Look, I just did."

"You can't just—seriously! You can't demand to know these things!" Kirk was outraged, but… actually kind of touched. Although the warm fuzzies were pretty deep down. It was, somehow, _sweet_ of Bones to be willing to face a terribly awkward, personal situation in an attempt to help him out.

"Jim! You idiot! I am your best friend, am I not?" Kirk was forced to nod in agreement. "We dated, did we not? And okay, parts of it were a disaster, but we really liked each other. Yeah?" Kirk nodded again, sullenly. "And you owe me this explanation, okay? You said we'd talk." This last Bones said in a hopeful, pleading tone of voice. Kirk kind of wanted to kill him.

"Okay," said Kirk. "Okay. Wait a second." He tried to hype his mind up. Yeah, he could tell Bones. Totally. Bones was right. Bones was his best friend. He owed it to him. Things were great between them. And this wouldn't change anything, would it? No, absolutely not. And he had to talk about it with his therapist (well, sort of; parts of it). It'd be fine.

But he had never summarized the story before. In every situation he'd been in where he had to actually _talk_ about it, the involved parties had already known. His therapists, his mom, the doctors, the police. He didn't have to describe the thing. He didn't have to tell the whole story, just snippets of it. And with Bones, there would be no getting out of parts of it. He'd have to relive the whole thing.

It was just too early in the morning for that.

Kirk put his hand on Bones's shoulder.

"I really can't," he said, his voice as sincere and apologetic and feeling as he could make it. "I wish I could. No, that's a lie. I hate dealing with this. So I don't. I'm sorry. I'm not going to tell you. And you can't force it out of me. I am just _not_ going to tell you."

Bones looked at him. "Okay," he said. He squeezed the hand Kirk rested on his shoulder. "But listen to yourself. 'I hate dealin' with this, so I don't.' Please—just think about that." He leaned down and kissed Kirk on the cheek. "Let's go to class, okay?"

Kirk smiled. "Okay."

x

Spock was in an unpleasant mood.

The day had gone very badly so far. He had set his alarm the night previously but forgotten to actually turn it on, and so Sarek had woken him up only twenty minutes before school started, leaving Spock with barely any time to get dressed, much less take a shower. In his hurry out of his room he had dropped and then stepped on his communicator, reducing it to a heap of very bent metal. There was no quick food in the kitchen and they were even out of milk. And then he ran into a _door_. Spock was angriest about this, somehow. He never _ran into_ things. He was graceful. Like a cat. Or something.

He stalked into school, having somehow managed to get there in plenty of time for class (which made him even angrier). Everyone looked so _cheerful_ and _happy_. Spock scowled so hard at a freshman that was in his way that the freshman squeaked and ran into a locker. This made him feel a little better.

He slid into English and sat at the back, muttering to himself and pushing up his crooked glasses viciously. Kirk and Bones came into the class, as happy as everybody else was. Kirk had his arm over Bones's shoulder and was saying something into Bones's ear. Spock wanted to give up.

Then Uhura walked in, looking damn attractive and carrying a copy of _Falor's Journey_, and Spock had a mad moment where he regretted ever breaking up with her and considered throwing himself at her feet and begging her to take him back. Then he realized that his hormones were acting up more aggressively than normal because _T'Pring was in the room_.

He had only seen T'Pring at the high school a few times, even though she attended the school as of last year. They had no classes together, and T'Pring seemed not to care very much about socializing with Spock in a human setting—or, indeed, at all; in the Embassy, she did not exactly avoid him, but neither did she seek out his company. They had spoken any number of times and even eaten together on multiple occasions, but that had always been separate of humans—which was important.

Spock had figured out that living in the Embassy was, actually, quite bad for his body. Being around Vulcans made his Vulcan physiology act up alarmingly. It was being around humans that kept his _kha'khek vok'a_—his chemical attractors—from working, and that also prevented his Vulcan reproductive cycle from functioning properly. Since he was a hybrid, he would not enter _pon farr_ until much past the inception date for Vulcans, but his time on Earth had extended his reproductive infancy for much longer than normal.

The crux of the matter was this: Spock was bonded to T'Pring, which meant that whenever he was around her, his _kha'khek vok'a_ would _really_ kick in. And whenever Kirk was around, his _kha'khek vok'a_ would become a veritable whirlwind. The combination of James Kirk and T'Pring was potent. Spock wanted to go off and faint somewhere rather than deal with the chemical stew boiling within him. He felt nauseous, irritable, voraciously hungry, and passionate, all at the same time.

It was just too early in the morning for that.

To Spock's very great frustration, right before class began, T'Pring picked up her books and came to sit next to him. Spock could not help himself: he glared at her. He did not know why Vulcan reproductive systems were so emotionally and hormonally fragile. It did not seem at all fair.

"Is there something wrong, Spock?" said T'Pring in Vulcan.

"Nothing at all," said Spock, trying to un-grit his teeth.

"I wondered because your _kha'khek vok'a_ are emitting pheromones at a heightened rate," said T'Pring smoothly.

_I hate you_, Spock thought. "My proximity to other _vok'ai_ are causing this," he said, referring to T'Pring.

"Yes," mused T'Pring. "Along, perhaps, with your proximity to certain other persons." She gave him the Vulcan equivalent of a knowing smile. "Nyota Uhura, perhaps?"

Spock felt a deep relief. "_Ko-kuglasu_, Nyota Uhura and I have been separated for some months."

"Yes, I know, _sa-kuglasu_," said T'Pring, lining the edge of her PADD up with the edge of her desk. "James Kirk, then?"

To Spock's great horror, T'Pring spoke into a moment of silence. Kirk turned around, as did nearly everybody else.

"James," said T'Pring to Kirk, rising. She was not at all embarrassed. "Spock and I were just speaking of you. I am T'Pring, daughter of T'Pral."

Kirk came over, and the class tried not to watch. "James Kirk, but you already knew that, _t'sai _T'Pring. You can call me Jim."

"Jim, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I see that you have been taking care of Spock in my absence."

"You could call it that." Kirk grinned at Spock, who wanted dearly to either slap him or kiss him (it was fifty-fifty, at the moment). "How do you know Spock, then?"

"My father is personal assistant to Spock's father. We have been familiar with each other for a long time."

"I'm very sorry."

"For what reason?" said T'Pring, without guile. Spock was not sure if T'Pring was being facetious. He suspected that she was not.

Kirk took this in stride. "I've been putting up with Spock for a few months now. He's a fine man, isn't he?" He made a show of looking at the time. "Well, class is starting soon. Good to meet you, _t'sai_ T'Pring. I'll see you around."

"Indeed," said T'Pring. Kirk went back to his seat next to Bones, who immediately leaned over to say something to him.

"Fascinating," said T'Pring to Spock, her nostrils flaring. "Your _kha'khek_—"

"Oh, shut up," said Spock tiredly. T'Pring stared at him, shocked and offended. Luckily, the bell rang.

x

"Nice girl," said Kirk to Spock at lunch. Spock ignored him and wrapped his chopsticks around his futomaki roll.

"Who?" said Chekov curiously, sitting down across from Spock.

"_T'sai_ T'Pring," said Kirk. "Lives at the Vulcan embassy. She was in our English class this morning. Did you notice?"

"I noticed her talking about you," said Chekov, unwrapping his pelmeni.

"Really interesting family, too," Kirk went on. "When did Idris start working for your dad?"

"How did you know the name of T'Pring's father?" Spock said.

Kirk shrugged. "Simple search." He took a sip of the sancocho he had brought for lunch.

"My father hired Idris twenty-four years ago."

"Dang. Long relationship."

"Not particularly," said Spock. "Pavel, how did you spend your break?" Kirk glared at Spock for changing the subject.

"We went to the Zefram Cochrane museum," said Chekov, eyes bright. "My sisters want to be astrophysicists. I tried to tell them about warp theory, but I think that they only want to be astrophysicists because the newest Disney film is set in Starfleet, and the heroine is an astrophysicist." Chekov paused to take a bite of his lunch. "Who sings."

"They always sing," muttered Kirk. "That's so interesting, Pavel. Now, Spock, have you and T'Pring had any _assignations_ in the past?"

"Excuse me?" Spock tilted his head to peer at Kirk over his glasses in what he thought was a threatening manner.

"You two just looked really familiar with each other," said Kirk, a very fake innocent expression pasted onto his face.

"We have known each other since birth," said Spock. "Thus. Ah, hello, Montgomery."

"Lads," said Scotty, sitting down next to Chekov. "It's great t' be back!"

"Mm," said Spock unenthusiastically.

"I know," sighed Chekov, watching as Scotty took a bite out of his sandwich. "I am so happy to be in physics again that I could sing!"

"_Can_ you sing?" Scotty said interestedly.

Spock had heard Chekov sing before and would do anything to stop Chekov from singing again. "While Pavel is indeed vocally talented, I think that now is not the time," said Spock hastily.

"Any news about your family?" Kirk asked Scotty.

"About them and th' Rihanh? Nothin'," said Scotty. "Ah think there's nothin' there." He wiped his mouth and leaned in to address the three boys. "Hoverclub meetin' after school?"

"There's not one planned," said Kirk.

"We ought t' to over a few things before th' next race," said Scotty. "Ah think we'll do well—you've been practicin' enough, Jim—but th' next round could be difficult."

"The track's basic," said Kirk carelessly, leaning back in his seat. "What could go wrong?"

"Don't _say_ that!" hissed Scotty, hastily knocking on the wooden table. "Anythin' could go wrong! We've got t' get t' th' final round. Colleges'll be fallin' over, tryin' t' accept us."

Spock, who was planning on entering Starfleet and who felt quite sure that he would be accepted into the Academy, could not say that he was particularly excited about the final round of the competition. The fourth and fifth races, which they had yet to run, took place quickly in late January and early Febuary. Only six teams would move on to the final competition, which occurred in late May, smack in the middle of AP tests, finals, college acceptance deadlines, and prom. It looked to be a stressful month already.

The really terrifying thing about the final race was that they would be building an entirely new hovercar for it. The six finalists received a large grant from the California Hovercar Junior Racing Committee to build a full-size hovercraft four times the size of a regular car. This model was to operate at a professional racing standard, and would hold anywhere from five to ten crewmembers. With the new design's size came increased capabilities: it went considerably faster than the smaller, one-man version, and one of the requirements was that the craft be spaceworthy.

It was quite a lot to blueprint, build, test, and practice with in just three months.

To make matters quite a lot worse, the final race took place as the opening ceremony of the professional hovercar circuit, where hundreds of thousands of people would gather in San Francisco, at Star Track, one of the most complicated courses on Earth, cheering or booing them on. It was an incredibly popular race. Kirk had looked at the betting online, and their odds weren't bad, although a few of the commentators called their performance "worryingly erratic." (Kirk agreed with this sentiment.)

"We'll go check on it, calm down," said Kirk to Scotty.

"Good," said Scotty. "Meanwhile, do th' lot o' you want t' finally have a look at my dilithium-powered phase transition coils?"

"Your what?" said Uhura, sitting down next to Scotty.

"Th' transporter ah'm buildin' for my shop class," said Scotty. "Ah'm tryin' t' improve on th' standard model, which uses deuterium, which is famously unstable…" Scotty went on like this for a while. Uhura ignored him and ate her hae mee. Chekov, however, was fascinated, and during their study period with Pike after lunch, dragged the group from lunch—Kirk, Spock, Uhura, and Scotty—down to the labs to see the transporter.

"Now, ah've already tried transportin' some things," said Scotty, leading them down a few hallways and into an extremely cluttered, dungeon-like room tucked behind the chemistry storerooms. "Ah got a grapefruit t' home ec, but it landed in an oven and some sophomores ate it for lunch." Scotty looked mournful. "Ah'm hopin' to try somethin' larger soon…"

"You could always try Porthos," said Kirk. He was joking.

Scotty was confused. "Vice Principal Archer's beagle?"

"Yeah, he followed us down here," said Kirk, motioning behind him. Spock and Uhura were outside the room, on their knees, stroking Porthos, who was on his back, legs kicking. Porthos was Enterprise High's unofficial mascot. He wandered around the office during the day and could sometimes be seen out in the halls. He was an exceedingly friendly beagle that everybody adored.

"That is a terrible idea," said Chekov. "You haf not werified the Heisenberg compensator's functionality, or the targeting scanner—and the biofilter is completely untested—"

"It'll be fine," said Scotty, advancing on Spock and Uhura. "Porthos, here boy!" Porthos padded over to him, eyes wide.

"What are you doing?" said Uhura, standing up and dusting Porthos fur off of her skirt.

"Just testin' th' transporter," said Scotty, hefting a trusting Porthos into his arms and plunking him down on the transporter pad. "Sit," he said to Porthos, who sat, tongue lolling.

"Um, I wasn't serious—" said Kirk.

"Oh my God!" said Uhura, hurrying forwards. "Monty! What the fuck!"

Uhura was too late. The transporter control panel sparked and started smoking a bit. Scotty frowned it at, but pressed a button anyway.

There was a high, sparkling noise, a flash of light, and Porthos disappeared. And then there was a very long silence.

"He should be in lab C," said Scotty, smiling brilliantly at everybody. "Ah'll be right back." He left to fetch the dog.

"Oh my God," said Uhura again, faintly. She followed Scotty. "Wait up!" Everybody else exchanged glances and followed him as well.

Lab C was empty.

"Porthos?" said Scotty, his face ashen. "Porthos?"

"He's not here," Uhura bit out. She had her arms crossed and was glaring at Scotty. She made an impressive figure, standing framed in the doorway like a statue haloed by floodlights.

"Shit," said Scotty, sitting heavily on the floor.

"You haf to tell Archer," said Chekov seriously, plopping down to six next to him.

"Ah can't tell Archer!" said Scotty. "He'll kill me! He'll behead me! He'll take me off th' hoverclub!"

Nobody was brooking this denial. They towed Scotty up to the office.

"Tell Gaila ah always loved her," said Scotty at the threshold, giving the group his best puppy-dog eyes.

"What? You two aren't even dating," said Uhura, completely unsympathetic. "Get in there."

Scotty proceeded inside with the air of one approaching the gallows. Kirk didn't entirely blame him. Archer was not exactly known for his sweet disposition.

"Let's go back to class," sighed Uhura.

x

Scotty got suspended for a week.

"Kinda harsh," said Kirk, leaning on a table and inspecting a screwdriver. He was the image of laziness.

"He _killed_ a _dog_," said Sulu. "I'm amazed Archer didn't press charges."

They, with the rest of the hoverclub, were in the garage, going over the _Enterprise_ again.

"He didn't _kill_ him," said Uhura. "Porthos just… didn't reappear."

"Yeah—and aren't transporter accidents really dramatic? Generally you know if someone's dead," said Bones.

Spock broke in. "We all agree that the dog has disappeared, however."

"Yes," said Uhura sadly.

"There is really nothing else to be done," said Spock. "After we delivered Montgomery to the office, I attempted to locate a canine biosignature somewhere within the school, but was unsuccessful. The transporter readings _did_ suggest that Porthos was… misplaced." Spock flipped open the cockpit and reached inside to twist a screen towards him. "Later, I plan on disassembling the transpo—" Spock paused. There was a funny look on my face.

"Yes?" said Kirk.

"Something is licking my hand," said Spock slowly. He leaned inside the cockpit. "Porthos!" The beagle was smiling up at him.

"Hi," said Porthos.

x

"Wait," said Scotty, confronted with a consternated hoverclub bearing a dog that they said could talk. "What?"

"Porthos… say something," said Kirk.

"Hello, Scotty," said Porthos, making the dog's equivalent of a smile. "You seem to have granted me the power of speech."

"Oh my Lord," said Scotty faintly, staring at the beagle. "You had best come inside."

The hoverclub (and Porthos) filed into Scotty's house. It was a messy split-level with a gigantic kitchen near Bones's neighborhood. Eight Cairn terriers ran yapping up to greet everyone. Safe in Uhura's arms, Porthos eyed them with dismay.

"They hate me," he said mournfully, evidently translating from what the dogs were saying. "But I don't know why."

"They hate all dogs, donnae worry about it," said Scotty, showing everybody into the living room. "So, uh, hi, Porthos."

Porthos, who had leapt out of Uhura's arms and onto a couch, kept staring at the Cairn terriers, which were bouncing in his face. "Your dogs are very strange."

"They can be eccentric," Scotty acknowledged. "Leo, does he have actual human vocal cords, or are we dealin' with somethin' else altogether?"

"He still has a dog's vocal chords," said Bones grimly. "As far as any of us can tell, he's been gifted with some sorta psychic means of communication that sounds like a voice…"

Spock noticed that Porthos was staring, very intently, at the Cairn terriers, some of whom were still leaping at him, but with markedly less enthusiasm and energy. Others had stopped and sat on the ground, their stubby tails wagging, watching Porthos curiously.

"There's a solution none of you have mentioned," said Chapel, who had hovered in the back of the group the entire time, looking faintly exasperated. She moved forwards, her hands on her hips. She was one of the only ones who had not sat down to discuss the problem. "Porthos could just _keep_ his voice. Scotty hasn't done any harm to him—in fact, he probably likes it. Do you, Porthos?"

Everybody looked up at her appraisingly.

"I very much enjoy talking to humans," said Porthos thoughtfully. "I would very much like to keep my voice. All of you are quite interesting. And I cannot wait to see what Jonathan will have to say to me."

"Jonathan?" said Chekov in an aside to Sulu.

"Archer," said Sulu. "Jonathan's his first name."

"Jonathan is wonderful," said Porthos, his tone becoming ardent. "I love Jonathan. Can I go see him now? And talk to him? You do not have any problems with me, do you?"

"No, we don't," said Kirk, looking a bit angry that he hadn't thought of this earlier, before they had come all the way out to Scotty's house. "Sorry we didn't think of keeping your voice earlier, Porthos. It just… weirded us out."

"It weirded _you_ out," muttered Porthos. "You are not the one who can suddenly speak the language he has known all his life. This is going to make going to the bathroom so much easier. And asking for food. And waking Jonathan up when he snores too loudly."

Scotty giggled. "Ah'll take you back t' Archer," he said to Porthos. "Maybe ah can get him t' lift the suspension. How'd you end up in th' _Enterprise_ anyway?"

"You beamed me there," said Porthos, hopping off the couch and trotting over to the door. "I could not exactly get out."

"Ah beamed you t' lab C!"

"And yet," said Porthos, his tone almost sarcastic. In the way that humans had, the group had oved had moved, together, without audible communication. They were all near the door. Scotty opened it and everybody filed out, laughing and talking about their eventful first day back and planning to do fun things before they got swamped by homework.

Porthos glanced back into Scotty's house, at the Cairn terriers sticking their heads around the door to the living room, and followed the hoverclub outside.

x


	35. Chapter 35: An Interval: II

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Thirty-Five: An Interval (II)_

x

Since Kirk's been really in love with Spock, it hasn't rained, which isn't a gigantic naturalistic commentary on the world being sunny and bright when your outlook is, but indicative of Seattle's incredible ability to attract _all _of the bad weather the Pacific coast experiences and thus shield the rest of the coastline from precipitative events.

See, Kirk's had other things to do while it rained. He had a boyfriend the last time it rained. He's had homework. He's had to listen in English. He's had something to do or pay attention to or deal with that has, invariably, distracted him from what Spock does differently on rainy days.

And so it isn't until January that when Spock runs into Kirk in the hallway before school, Kirk stops and stares.

"Good morning, James," says Spock with his usual arch carelessness. He is dressed impeccably for storms: he shoulders a long, black, silver-buttoned overcoat that flares open to reveal a crisp collared shirt and precisely pleated pants. Kirk blinks. Spock's hair is exactly in place, except for a single strand over his left eyebrow that has floated away in the humidity.

Kirk, meanwhile, is in a drenched brown jacket, jeans, and tennies. They make a picture.

"Good morning," Kirk says at last, and then, because he just can't help himself, "You're not wearing glasses."

"Indeed," says Spock, raising his eyebrow. "If there is one thing I hate, it is wearing glasses in the rain."

"Why?"

"Drops of water," says Spock, not blinking. "Flecks of obscurity. I enjoy the clarity of sight."

Spock's eyes have never been deeper, never been blacker. They gleam like raw flesh under an electric lamp. Kirk likes to see them like this, but at the same time, it is almost too much. Beneath glasses, Spock's eyes are dulled and corralled, refracted into smaller spheres of influence. They are less like a world when he covers them with lenses, and more like the surface of the ocean—fathomless, but contained.

Kirk isn't sure which he prefers.

x

Meanwhile, Sulu is having a revelation of his own.

He spots Chekov outside of school, darting through the rain with his dark head bent, and follows him bemusedly inside. They open their lockers together and Sulu can't stop staring. Finally, he says, "Pavel—what in the name of Zephram Cochrane are you wearing?"

Chekov turns to grin at him. The boy's head is covered by a gigantic hat, black and striped on the outside with fuzzy werewolf-gray flaps that hang down over his ears and a tag of the same foggy fur turned up over his forehead. The headgear is ridiculous. He looks like a Balkan soldier, in a completely absurd way.

"I am wearing," he says proudly, his Russian accent even more pronounced, "an _ushanka_." Sulu stops to marvel at the way Chekov says the word, which slides off his tongue like water off a shining slope. Nothing is more natural for Chekov than Russian, Sulu realizes; he should have thought of this earlier, he should have realized that there was something Chekov was better at than math and physics.

"I love it," Sulu laughs. "You look amazing, Pavel. You are really crazy, you know that?"

"You think so?" says Chekov, blushing a little as he tugs his electromagnetics textbook out of his locker and stuffs it into his overflowing backpack. He tugs helplessly at the zipper and Sulu gazes at him fondly.

"I think so," Sulu says, and leans down to help.

x


	36. Chapter 36: The Deadly Years

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Thirty-Six: The Deadly Years_

x

Archer ended up _adding_ time to Scotty's suspension for the Porthos fiasco, although Pike was able to get it reduced slightly, since the hoverclub needed Scotty for the next race.

Which came up faster than anybody really expected. On the second day of class, in fourth period, Pike looked around at their bored expressions and said, "You guys have the _Enterprise_ ready for Friday, right?"

There were a couple of slow blinks.

"I've already talked to Principal Barnett," Pike went on serenely. "We'll leave early Friday—you're skipping school that day. The race is at two in San Diego. Which is great because there's a really nice trout stream nearby, so I'll be disappearing after the race for a while, and you guys can wander around the city. So you should be prepared, since it's in two days."

Chekov's jaw dropped a bit, and Bones got a twitch in his left eye.

"Are all of you alright?" Pike asked worriedly when the silence in the class became heavy.

"Yeah. We're fine," said Kirk, snapping out of his haze of panic. "We're all good. Guys! Let's go down to the shop real quick and check out that, um, that thing."

With murmurs of, "Yes, _that_ thing," and "Ah, the _thing_," the hoverclub filed hastily out of Pike's room.

"Oh my God," said Sulu, in the corridor, taking faint hold of a column. "Oh my God. The race is _day after tomorrow?_ Fuck. _Fuck_." Chekov took advantage of Sulu's worry to go stand warmly next to him and look perturbed.

"No, it's okay, we're good," said Kirk soothingly to the group. Chapel clutched Kirk's forearm whitely. Spock even looked kind of concerned. "We've been doing the standard maintenance all winter. And we spent some time in the shop yesterday. That was great. We added those panels."

"We _started_ adding those panels," Uhura corrected. "Then we got distracted because Spock found Porthos."

"Oh yeah," said Kirk. "Well, those won't take too long finish installing. They just hook into, what, the auxiliary?"

"They _control_ the auxiliary," said Spock tightly.

"And they hook into the main, the submain, both hydrogen engines, and all eighteen electronics bundles," said Chekov.

Kirk was quiet for a moment. Then he agreed with Sulu. "_Fuck_," he said.

x

The word "hurry," or even "rush," was an understatement. There was instead, for two continuous days, what amounted to a very small explosion of speed and purpose as the hoverclub threw parts and pieces onto the _Enterprise_.

The construction was actually too intense. Everybody woke up Friday morning at an obscene hour, the day of the race, to come up and finish the hovercar, only to find that all they had to do was turn some bolts and be done.

So then it was five fifteen AM, there was nothing to do, and nobody had thought to bring coffee.

Kirk, holding his head delicately, was trying not to be angry. Not at specific people, but at the situation in general. Chapel and Chekov, unable to believe they were done, were inspecting the _Enterprise_ closely, but the hovercar was spick and span.

"Run some standard tests," sighed Kirk, finally sitting up. Bones and Scotty nodded hollowly and jabbed Sulu in the diaphragm to wake him up. Uhura, who was the most alert, said wistfully, "I'd kill for a Danish."

"Spock, you and me, coffee run," said Kirk, motioning to Spock, who gave him an eyebrow. "What? We have _strategy_ to discuss." This was a white lie: Kirk had a single question to ask Spock about the hovercar's slightly complex braking system. Other than that he just wanted to be close to him.

"We should take my vehicle," said Spock, putting a hand on Kirk's shoulder to get Kirk's attention. Kirk leaned into the touch a bit, like Spock was an irresistible magnet, and then pulled himself out again. He looked at Spock. There was nothing on Spock's face, as usual. Just a mask of focus and neutrality.

Kirk—this was interesting, he thought—had not paid much attention to falling in love with Spock. It was simply a _state_ he was in, the same as any other, except, God, not at all… All of his synapses were cordoned in on Spock—every nerve in him hummed when Spock was near. It was a sweet, aching thing, different from any passion he had ever felt. When he had been in love before—well, it hadn't been love, had it? That was clear now.

He watched Spock extract his wallet from his bag. What _was_ it? The feeling was useless to pinpoint, but he had to try. The grace in his arms, perhaps. Those lines—what was different about them? Nothing particularly. He could not contribute his attraction to Spock's Vulcan features. Maybe—he studied Spock's face. The very slight purse of Spock's lips as he concentrated. The tiniest knit between his brows. Kirk wanted to kiss that indent and cup Spock's sharp chin in his palm. He wanted to hug Spock to him and tell him everything.

There was no _why_, and it drove him crazy that he lacked this fundamental knowledge of himself and of his strongest impulse. There was no reason for it except that it was—except that it was _Spock_. And there it was—the best _why_ he had was a mere name, although of course, it was no _mere_ name, because again… God, it was just so frustratingly simple, so maddeningly unexplanatory… it was Spock, and that was it, that was all.

"You sure you don't want to take my motorcycle?" said Kirk, grinning, and hoping inwardly that Spock would say yes. (Those arms around him again.)

"Your driving alarms me," said Spock flatly, holding up the keys to his Volvo.

Kirk scowled at him, but acquiesced. They left the garage.

They walked to the car with a minimum of conversation. Kirk posed his question about the brakes and Spock answered it. When they got to Spock's car, Spock asked where they should go.

"Ripley's," said Kirk immediately. "The place over on Bryson? Nyota was pretty serious about her Danish needing to be quality stuff."

Spock shrugged. "I have not been there. Is it located next to La Maison?"

"_Oui_." Kirk paused. "You haven't been to Ripley's? I'm sorry, are you even in high school?"

Spock pressed the brake gently at the school parking lot exit. "Excuse me?"

"Well, it's one of those traditional, 'I'm in high school, I am socially required to hang out here' places, like the mall, or Shore Leave." Kirk glanced over at Spock, whose lips were pursed. "Oh yeah, I forgot. Mr. Anti-Social."

"I am not anti-social," said Spock.

"Mmm," said Kirk skeptically, leaning into the turn Spock made onto Bryson Lane. "See? There's Ripley's."

They purchased three-dozen assorted donuts and enough coffee to revive the dead, and then returned to the eager arms of their clubmates. Sulu drank an entire twelve-ounce cup in under a minute. (The ensuing chugging contest was, in retrospect, not their wisest off-the-cuff decision, but it did produce a few notable moments, such as Scotty flashing Kirk while Kirk was trying to drink his coffee. As punishment Kirk made Scotty re-polish the _Enterprise_, though he barely could for laughing.)

When Pike finally showed up at a quarter 'till eight, the hoverclub were bouncing off the walls. Pike stuck his head in, calculated the equation _high schoolers + coffee + sugar + day off = I'll come back later_, and repaired back to his room for forty five minutes to polish his fishing gear until it really was time to go.

The ride to San Diego was short but traumatizing. Kirk, making a mistake he would forever regret, sat in between Uhura and Chapel, who, after conversing innocently about chocolate, quantum physics, and makeup for half an hour, suddenly started talking about the female menstrual cycle.

"Yeah, I'm ovulating right now," said Uhura glumly, touching her left side and flinching a bit.

"Oh man, you can feel it?" said Chapel sympathetically. "I never could. I just keep track on a calendar so I know when to start carrying tampons around."

Kirk dove into his backpack for his headphones, but had evidently left them at home, along with his belief in a supreme being who _didn't_ hate him.

"What does it feel like?" Chapel asked.

"It's hard to compare it to anything else," said Uhura slowly. "It's a very sharp pain, but—dull, because it's so far in." She frowned. "It's hard to describe things in 3-D, you know?"

"Yeah, no. How long does it last?"

"About half a day—probably less, actually. And you've never felt it?"

Kirk flipped through his PADD, looking for something that would preoccupy him. Oh God, he'd forgotten his library device; this was his school PADD. All he had on it at the moment was _Moby Dick_, Tacitus's _Annals_ and _Histories_ , and about fifty physics texts. Fucking shit.

"No, I just start bleeding," said Chapel sadly. "Does yours start out with chunks? Because mine generally does."

A better, more dignified end, Kirk thought philosophically, trying to bury his entire jacket inside his ear canals, would be death.

"Oh my god, I really hate those little lumps of congealed blood," said Uhura passionately. "They are just _so_ disgusting. And at the end of your period—it's brown! I'm like, oh my god, why are you _brown_? Have you been _up there_ for a while? Our bodies really need to be more practical."

"Okay, right?" said Chapel, nodding in deepest agreement. "It's like, you've been doing this for about a million years now! Get it straight. Or, don't do it at all."

It was punishment, Kirk decided. Punishment inflicted upon him by the cruel world, just because women were the ones who experienced childbirth, while men merely dealt with orgasm, nine months of pickles-and-ice-cream (if they chose), and then the occasional child support payment. Women had to expel miniature humans through their vaginas. And then get _stitches_.

Or so he learned as the conversation continued.

He was occasionally—_very_ occasionally—interested by what Uhura and Chapel were saying. It turned out that girls and boys were very different. (Who knew?) Until now, he had managed to forget that women bled out of their privates once a month, which was just _disturbing_.

After he thought this, he realized that Uhura and Chapel had gone silent. He looked around. They were staring at him.

"Excuse me?" said Uhura in one of the most dangerous tones of voice Kirk had ever heard.

"Oh fuck," said Kirk. "Did I say that _out loud_?"

x

Eventually Uhura and Chapel took pity on him and let him out from under the seat, but by that time, they were in San Diego.

"Nice goin'," said Bones, slapping Kirk on the back as they exited the transport. Kirk turned baleful eyes on him. Ahead, Uhura and Chapel walked, straight-backed, to help Pike unload the _Enterprise_. "I was takin' bets on how long you'd last," Bones continued airily. "Made myself a fair amount of money."

"Bully for you," sniffed Kirk. Chekov giggled.

Kirk stayed near Spock as Uhura, Chapel, and Scotty unlocked the _Enterprise_ from its moorings and lowered it to the ground. Pike had parked just outside of the UCSD racetrack. They were slightly late: most of the other hoverclubs had unloaded and were walking their crafts into the arena.

Kirk was having a hard time thinking of this as his second race. He felt like he'd been in the hoverclub for most of his life, and had piloted the _Enterprise_ for half of that. Strange how slowly things went, sometimes. He watched Uhura and Scotty trace the grooves near the engine bed with their sensors, their reflections following them on the _Enterprise_'s polished surface. And Chekov and Sulu were standing closer together than they generally did as they watched the test screens run their evaluation.

The hoverclub worked more efficiently than they ever had. This was their first really regular race—four races in, of course, but still. As Kirk ran back to the transport for his flight jacket, the rest of the team moved the hovercar into the race grounds. Scotty, without too much of a frown, pronounced the craft ready for battle—"Er, race," he corrected hastily, but Pike hadn't noticed, and everybody else agreed with his phrasing anyway.

Kirk poured himself into the cockpit and busily flipped buttons. Everybody called good luck to him and filed off, except for Spock, who steeled himself, walked over to the open window, and said imperatively, "James."

"Huh?" said Kirk, turning opened-mouth to see who had addressed him.

Spock leaned in, kissed him messily on the cheek, and fled, blushing furiously.

Kirk had to sit there for a full minute before he could move again.

Spock went off and covered his face and moaned for a while. Then he said to himself, "Am I _seven_?" and straightened his manly backbone. There was no way a kiss on the cheek could be misconstrued. Or construed. Wait. Did he want Kirk to know he liked him? Oh no. What if Kirk figured it out? Oh no. What if Kirk _didn't_ figure it out? He covered his face again. He generally thought things through so well. But that maddening _something_ that he liked about Kirk made him act like an absolute fool.

This would have been much simpler on Vulcan, Spock reflected. Then he sighed. But probably not nearly as interesting.

Meanwhile, Kirk zipped up his flight jacket, grinning as he tucked Spock's scarf inside of it. He had forgotten it on purpose, so he could go back to the bus for the scarf.

x

"I think this is going to go well," said Sulu, back in the observation room.

The observation room at UCSD was the nicest the hoverclub had encountered. It had extremely soft couches, a wide, UV-sprayed window, angled towards the track, a food replicator, and a _bar_. Sulu, at least, felt good about the race because, sprawled out on the couch next to Chekov, life itself seemed better.

Chekov turned to smile blissfully at him. Sulu felt his heart seize up a bit. Chekov was basically laying on his thigh, which was both awkward and amazing. And then Chekov ran his hand up to Sulu's, so that he could stroke Sulu's wrist. Sulu tried not to shudder.

The greatest thing was that Chekov's behavior wasn't unprecedented. They had been studying together for the physics AP test for a while now, stealing touches in the library and in whosever house they were at. The study sessions at home turned in to movie nights, generally; Sulu had seen everything from _Facepunch_ to _Love's Labor's Lost_ with Chekov. And by the end of the movie, they became so entwined in the popcorn and pillows that Sulu never wanted to move.

He wasn't sure what to think of Chekov's feelings for him. Chekov was a difficult person to guess. He was affectionate to almost everybody. But he was, markedly, _most_ affectionate to Sulu. They spent quite a lot of time together outside of class, and they communicated _very_ well.

Sulu sighed, and lived in hope.

Spock, although he had confidence in Kirk, had _grudging_ confidence in Kirk, and was not so sure as Sulu was about Kirk's success. Hovering near the window, he said, "I doubt that the race will be without its difficulties."

Everybody watched as the _Enterprise_ crept into the starting lineup. There were only twenty-four hovercars in this race, and there would be a mere fifteen in the next race. Kirk had to beat out nine other drivers to continue.

"It'll be fine, Spock," said Pike, clapping Spock on the shoulder. Spock, who tended to be extremely polite to professors, gave Pike a devastatingly condescending look. Pike, who understood, just smiled.

Uhura, resting on Scotty's shoulder, felt a stab of jealousy. She knew why Spock was pressed against the window. She had been talking to Kirk lately, and she had noticed how, in a list of names, Kirk always put Spock's first.

x

"How am I doing?" Kirk asked.

"Really well," said Uhura, grudgingly, on the other end of the line. "You're freaking us out. Fuck, Jim." She flinched as the _Enterprise_ was nearly crushed by another hover.

"Thanks," said Kirk, dodging the _Radiant_, which was chugging along in tenth place. "This is kind of freaking me out, you know? How easy it is so far, I mean."

"Yeah, totally," said Uhura sarcastically, sounding for all the world like she was just having casual drinks with him. Her tone switched when she said, "And hey, sorry about earlier."

"About what earlier?" said Kirk, a little distracted—the _Radiant_ had just come out of fucking nowhere and swooped in front of him. Christ in a _bucket_.

"About stuffing you under the seat," said Uhura. "You deserved it, though."

"Yeah," Kirk agreed distantly, trying to figure out what in Surak's name the _Radiant_'s pilot was thinking, or maybe using.

"You there?"

"Yeah, just having some issues with the Rosemont High entry," said Kirk.

"Oh man, Rosemont has a really good team," said Uhura.

"Listen, I love you and all," said Kirk, gritting his teeth as he darted out from behind the _Radiant_'s smoking engines, "but aren't you supposed to maintain radio silence in case of emergencies?"

"Yeah, but I'm bored because everybody else is playing Contact."

"Spock is playing Contact?"

"What? As if. He's just looking angsty over by the bar. Oh, hey, we have a _bar_ in here. Pike says it's because there are only like twenty teams left, so we're getting the executive suites."

"You bitches. Mix me a planter's punch. I'm gonna need it."

"I'm not a bartender. I don't even know what that is. Also I think Scotty already stole all the rum."

"You said you didn't know what that was," Kirk protested.

"I don't have all cocktail recipes _totally_ memorized," said Uhura. "Doesn't it have, like, pineapple stuff?"

"What? Okay, just—shut up for a while," Kirk growled. "I have to fucking drive, okay?"

"Whatever. You're so touchy. _Bonne chance_," cooed Uhura, and signed off.

Kirk sighed. Ah. Peace _and_ quiet, both of them. What a miracle! The _Radiant_ was hovering unthreateningly a few meters to his right. There were only five ships between him and first. And he _loved_ flying.

He settled back in his seat, twisted a few knobs, and let a big grin break out over his face.

This was, of course, when it all went to hell.

x

First, Uhura joined in on the game of Contact by sitting down next to Sulu, who in his enthusiasm to guess a clue, flailed and whacked her earpiece, causing a burst of static to drill right into Kirk's brain.

Second, the _Radiant_ chose that exact moment to try and overtake the _Enterprise_ once and for all, and accelerated before it realized that the _Enterprise_ had just swerved unexpectedly in front of it.

Third, the _Enterprise_ was not meant to sustain moderate damage. Minor damage, like scrapes and dings, its gurian alloy could withstand, and major damage went, on purpose, straight to the ejector seat, since nobody fucked around with security. The hoverclub did not think ahead to _moderate_ damage, because in races like this, it was generally all or nothing.

Moderate damage such as the gurian alloy hull near the hydrogen engine is breached and hydrogen starts leaking out.

"Fuck," said Kirk, trying to stabilize after the _Radiant_, its nose a little dented but otherwise unharmed by its brush with the _Enterprise_, backed off. "_Fuck_. Shit, Nyota, come in. The hull pressure is dropping like a fucking rock."

"Fuck," Uhura agreed, having seen the collision on the screens. "I'm gonna put you on speaker, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," muttered Kirk, trying to figure out how bad this was. All he could tell was that the amount of hydrogen he had left was dropping quickly enough that he wouldn't have enough fuel to last the race. "God, why does this always happen?"

Uhura had put Kirk on speaker. Scotty started to say, "It's—" and Kirk cut in with, "Scotty, if you say this is '_excitin'_,' I swear to God."

"Fine, fine," muttered Scotty.

"What is happening?" Spock asked imperatively. They had crowded around Uhura's little earpiece. Pike hovered in the background, looking resigned.

"Hydrogen is dropping," Kirk said. "I switched to the auxiliary, but guess what? It got knocked out too. What luck."

"James, the occurrence is far from lucky."

"I wasn't _saying_—" Kirk protested.

"He needs a spare, right?" said Chapel, looking serious.

"Precisely," said Spock. "Although as to how he is going to install it…"

"Installing a spare hydrogen canister'd be easy," Chapel broke in. "Just stick the car in auto for a bit and access the fuel port. It's right near the pilot window, on the outside."

"Wait," said Kirk. "You want me to put the _Enterprise_ on autopilot, lay half my torso out the window, and pour_ highly flammable_ hydrogen straight into the tank?"

There was a bit of a silence.

"What could go wrong?" said Sulu cheerfully.

x

"Okay, the _sheer insanity_ of that plan is not even the main issue," warned Kirk, who was currently (and finally) being overtaken by the _Radiant_ and feeling really pissed about it. "_I don't have a spare hydrogen canister_, people."

"We can get it to you," Chekov piped up. Everybody looked at him. "Isn't it obwious?" Chekov said, looking around wide-eyed at them.

"Can't say it is," Bones growled.

"We borrow—"

"Wait," said Pike, realizing what Chekov was about to say. "_Wait_ a sec—"

"We borrow Meester Pike's fishing gear," said Chekov cheerfully. "Go out on the track, put it on the end of the line, wait for Jim to come by, and haf him grab it."

There was another bit of a silence.

Finally, Kirk, sounding like he was about to cry, said, "Will you guys just—stop talking? Stop coming up with such _stupid_ ideas."

"It is not stupid," said Chekov, offended. "Is completely logical!"

"It is _not!_ It would be a disaster and more importantly I would be a _laughingstock_."

Spock started to say something about priorities, but Bones broke in.

"For God's sake, Jim," he said. "Just _do_ it. It's darin', it's stupid, and it's right up your alley. Plus, you get to win the race."

Kirk opened his mouth to object and found he couldn't. "Alright," he said. "Good argument, Sawbones. Bring me some hydrogen."

x

"I swear to God," said Pike, "if you hurt my fishing equipment, I will make sure you never even graduate from high school."

Chekov cowered. "Yes, Meester Pike," he said in a small voice. "I will be wery careful, I promise."

"See that you are," said Pike sternly.

Nobody was sure if what they were doing was entirely legal, according to the rules. Uhura had looked over the pertinent sections in the rulebook and was "pretty confident" that they wouldn't get suspended, "although a good lawyer could argue for and against," she'd said.

"Really confidence-inspiring," Chapel had said sarcastically.

"Are you the one who's interested in linguistics? I think not, _Nurse_ Chapel."

"Doctor!" Chapel protested. "Doctor!"

Anyway, Spock and Scotty had scrounged a fuel tank and some hydrogen from the transport. Kirk, halfway through the race, was in third, but by the 3/4ths mark, he would start to loose speed as the hydrogen finally dissipated into the air entirely.

"Well, let's hope we don't get suspended," sighed Pike. Chekov, grinning, hefted Pike's fishing gear—_carefully_—and marched out the door. Sulu, mumbling something along the lines of, "Somebody should go with him," followed.

"I am not sure that I trust Pavel to do this on his own," said Spock, frowning and starting after them. Uhura hastily put a hand on Spock's arm.

"They'll be fine," she said, pretty sure that Sulu, who felt bad for causing this whole thing in the first place, would go off the deep end if Spock interfered with his private time with Chekov. "Don't worry about it. I gave Pavel a transmitter, okay? He'll let me know if anything goes wrong."

"Which it will," said Bones gloomily.

"You're so _dour_," lamented Chapel. "Here, have some whiskey."

Pike whipped around. "Some _what_?"

Chapel froze. "Um. There's a bar?" she said, pointing to the corner, where a fully stocked liquor cabinet sat above a little serving pedestal.

"Oh, right, executive suite," said Pike. He flopped down on a chair. "Would somebody get me a Long Island iced tea?"

The team exchanged glances at his reaction.

Uhura considered arguing that Pike was a teacher and should be making sure that his students didn't do anything illegal or stupid. Then again, Chekov and Sulu had just taken his prize fishing gear and were going go to dangle a highly explosive canister of fuel over a 500 mph racetrack for their captain to snatch out of the air and then pour into an exterior fuel tank.

So she just said, "Actually, we don't have any rum."

x

"Do you think this is going to work?" Sulu asked Chekov.

The two of them were poised on the lip of the racetrack a little before the 3/4ths mark. The track, which was blue-painted concrete, curved beneath them. Sulu was spread out on the grass overlooking the track, watching Chekov tangle fishing line into oblivion. The sun beat cheerfully down on the whole scene, and despite the air of real desperation inherent in the situation, Sulu couldn't help but feel very safe and happy.

"Of course it is," grinned Chekov, tying the end of the fishing line securely around the tank handle. Sulu didn't even know what kind of knot Chekov had just created. It looked like it would hold the sun together, it was so enthusiastically tied.

"Jim's going to have to cut that, you know," said Sulu hesitantly.

"I will cut it for him," said Chekov confidently. "I haf this all planned. He will come underneath us and radio when he is holding it, and I will cut it when he is holding it."

"If you don't cut it in time, the thingy might spool out," said Sulu, gesturing to the spinning reel. "Then the whole rod'll get yanked out of your hands and fly into the hovercars and not only will we get disqualified, Pike will kill you with his bare hands."

"I must haf good timing, then," said Chekov, unconcerned.

He's suicidal, Sulu thought admiringly, flopping onto his stomach in the grass. "Okay. On your own head be it. Have you talked to Jim yet?"

"I haf not had a chance," said Chekov. He glared at Sulu. "These things take time."

"Okay, okay," said Sulu, scooting back and putting his hands in the air. "Sure. Whatever. Let me know if you need any help."

"I shall," said Chekov snippily. He touched his earpiece. "Jim? This is Pavel. Are you close to the third-to-last bend?"

"Yep," said Kirk. "You there?"

"Yes," said Chekov. "Come to the inside. I will haf it waiting. Tell me the second you have your hands on the canister and I will cut the tie for you." Chekov touched his earpiece again, to mute Kirk, and said, "Actually, you must cut the tie, Hikaru."

"What?" said Sulu sharply, sitting up. "Me? I'm not involved. I'm just here to make sure you don't do something really stupid."

"No, I must hold the rod, and you must cut the line," said Chekov patiently. He was lowering the canister over the edge of the track as he spoke. Sulu could hear the hum of approaching hovercars; the leader, the _Lexington_, was about to pass their position.

"But you're wearing the earpiece. Let's switch," said Sulu desperately.

Chekov considered. "Okay," he said finally, and handed Sulu the rod. Sulu didn't know a thing about fishing, so he just copied Chekov, putting one hand around the rod's grip and pushing his other two fingers against the reel's switch, so, presumably, the rod wouldn't spool out. Chekov pulled a Swiss army knife out of his pocket and undid the scissors. The _Lexington_, the hover in first, hissed beneath them.

"I see it," said Kirk in Chekov's ear. "A little lower?"

"Lower it," said Chekov to Sulu. Sulu panicked a bit and let go of the switch entirely. The canister dropped ten feet, until it was mere inches from the ground.

"Why'd you go so low?" Kirk squawked. "Reel it up! Reel it up!"

At Chekov's command, Sulu padded hastily at the reel. The canister whacked the ground as the _Enterprise_ approached, Kirk hanging out the window. Then Sulu realized that he was turning the switch the wrong way and reversed, just in time. He was reeling the canister back up when the _Enterprise_, going a mere 100 mph, whooshed by.

"Cut it!" Kirk shouted, reaching for the canister. Just as he closed his hands around it, Chekov sliced the line, which floated limply into the air, at least until the slipstream of the hovercars caught it and whipped it frantically around. Kirk tugged the canister back inside the hover and corrected his steering hastily. He'd dropped _eight_ positions, to ninteenth place. And he still had to put the fuel in the tank.

"Thanks, Pav," he said into his mike. "Gotta go."

"You are wery welcome!" Chekov chirped. "Come on, Hikaru, let us go back."

"Yeah," said Sulu, who had sat down on the track's rim and was breathing heavily. "Wait a sec." He felt like a total idiot for panicking and nearly fucking up the trade.

"What is wrong?" he heard Chekov ask concernedly from behind him. Sulu looked away. What was this? Were there tears in his eyes? He blinked angrily. Well, that didn't make any sense!

"Hikaru, what is it?" Chekov asked.

"Nothing," muttered Sulu, trying to make it look natural when he wiped his eyes on his shoulder. "I just feel like an idiot."

"What?" Chekov sounded offended.

"I just freaked, and I shouldn't have," Sulu said. "I don't know why I came with you. You had this great idea, and I nearly fucked it up."

Chekov didn't say anything. Sulu went on.

"I mean, I've never gone fishing before, but I should have known how to fucking reel something in—"

Chekov made this utterly disgusted noise and crunched over. Sulu flinched away when Chekov's body came in to view next to him. Then Chekov sat down and put his arm very firmly around Sulu's shoulder.

"Do you think you are stupid?" said Chekov furiously.

"Y-yes?" tried Sulu.

Chekov muttered something in Russian and pulled his arm off of Sulu. Alarmed, Sulu looked over at Chekov. Chekov was glaring into the racetrack.

"What?" said Sulu, totally lost.

"You are not stupid," Chekov snapped. "You are incredibly smart and beautiful and you are stupid if you think you are stupid. You are the best pilot in the world and you are talented and if you are not going to respect you then I am wery disappointed."

Sulu blinked at him. "Wait. I was just being emotional. Please don't take me so seriously."

"But you are saying crazy things! You are amazing and I do not know how _you_ do not know that you are amazing!"

"You are so weird," said Sulu admiringly. "Trust me, you're more amazing than me."

Chekov let out a little shriek of anger. "That is not true!"

"Okay, calm down," said Sulu, putting his hands on Chekov's shoulders and wondering at how adorably crazy Chekov was. "If you feel so strongly about it, I'll shut up."

"You—" Chekov turned to look at Sulu and Sulu realized how close they were. Chekov's face took up his whole view.

Sulu was amazed when he spoke. "I what?" he asked quietly. Chekov blinked. His pale lashes seemed so close that Sulu wondered that they didn't brush his cheek.

"You need to understand how much I like you," said Chekov furiously, and kissed him.

x

Kirk's day was not going well.

"Fucking… _fuck_," he muttered, grappling with the cap on the hydrogen canister. "Who the fuck closed this thing?" (It had been Spock, who not only was unnaturally strong but also wanted to make sure that the canister didn't open in midair.) "God_damn_."

After what felt like hours he wrestled the cap out of its grooves and was left with a slushing armful of flammable fuel. "Oh, this was a _great_ idea," Kirk growled, checking the autopilot for the eightieth time. Now he was in twenty-first place, and the hydrogen still left in the engine really was about to run out.

"Nyota?" he said into the radio. "I'm about to try this. I've always loved you."

"And you, fair maiden," said Uhura, swooning romantically. "Good luck, dude."

"Thanks," said Kirk, steeling himself. He reached out and unlatched the window.

Typically, the window wasn't meant to be opened during flight, so unlatching the window meant getting rid of the window entirely. Kirk pulled it in to the cockpit and shoved it behind some wires, then, hefting the hydrogen canister in the crook of his left arm, pressed the fuel flap button and leaned out the window.

The _Enterprise_ had sped back up to 400 mph, but Kirk had made sure that the wind-shield would protect him from the really crazy gusts, so it just felt like he was dealing with a 70 mph wind. Luckily, the fuel hatch was near the back edge of the window. Kirk, leaning heavily on his kidneys and cursing a lot, twisted himself around so that he could access the hatch. He grabbed the funnel attached to the hydrogen canister, stuck it on the canister's mouth, and stuck that into the hatch.

The meter on the hydrogen canister flashed _90%... DO NOT REMOVE… 60%... 25%... 0% EMPTY. SAFE TO REMOVE. _Kirk, who had ducked back inside to correct the hover's course again, popped out, grabbed the canister, pulled himself inside the hover, and settled into the driver's seat. He flipped off the autopilot, closed the fuel hatch, shoved the canister in the cranny next to the window, said a few more curse words, and accelerated with alarming speed.

x

Back in the observation room, Uhura was worried. "Where are Pavel and Hikaru?" she said, looking around. "Jim's refueled. They should be back."

"Ah wouldnae worry about them," said Scotty, pouring Pike another shot of vodka. "They're competent lads. They'll be fine on their own."

Pike nodded solemnly. "If they don't show up by the time Jim crosses the finish, we'll call," he said. "And thank God Jim'll cross the finish line. That was a good idea of Pavel's."

"You know he has your fishing gear, right?" said Chapel to Pike.

"Call them," said Pike imperatively, sitting up and pointing dangerously around at everybody. "They need to get back here right now."

"Mr. Pike, I'm sure your gear is—"

Pike glared at Uhura. "Okay, okay," she said, grabbing her communicator. "You don't have to be so crazy," she muttered.

x

Kirk was having fun imaging what the pilots were saying as he sped by them. Various combinations of "holy shit" and "blistering barnacles" were bandied around. As he eeked into seventh, he figured he'd ask afterwards what their interesting takes on curses were. He grinned into the wind. He hadn't installed a booster subsystem in the _Enterprise_ for nothing. It was a beautiful thing, flowing by the other cars like they were so much flotsam.

Then the end of the racetrack loomed before him, and he realized that he hadn't seen the _Narada_ the entire time. How had that happened? He looped around a very angry _Negh'Var_ and acquired sixth before crossing the finish.

The _Narada_ was already cooling her engines backstage, in the first place slot. The (even more damaged-looking than usual) _Voyager_ was smoking in a shocking second place, although the captain was giving Nero such a stink-eye that Kirk didn't doubt the poor ship deserved first. Kirk didn't bother going over to talk to Nero, who was obviously watching him out of the corner of his eye. Instead he reinstalled the _Enterprise_'s window and then looked around for his team.

They were nowhere.

More than a little hurt, Kirk started towards observation. He was halfway to the sliding doors when Spock, looking irritated, same stalking out of them.

"Hey?" said Kirk, jogging over. "Thanks for the standing ovation. Where is everybody?"

"Pavel and Hikaru are lost," said Spock, hands deep in his pockets and a scowl carved onto his face. "Mister Pike—what is the term? Nyota said that he 'freaked out.' The others are looking for them."

"Ah," said Kirk, trying not to laugh as he imagined Pike freaking out.

"Additionally, you did very well during the race," said Spock, and Kirk realized that Spock was being so recalcitrant because he was embarrassed. "But do not let that inflate your oversized ego to an increased volume," he added snappily.

"Whatever," laughed Kirk, and slung his arm over Spock's shoulders. "Let's go help them look for Pav and Hikaru."

x

_This is a legit notice. If anybody needs a beta reader, I would be delighted to help you out. I'd like to be the rl version of a beta when I graduate (content editor yeahh), so drop me a PM if you've got a story that needs lookin'. Additionally, if you merely have a story _idea_ that needs lookin', or just some consultation on writing (characterization/plot/setting)/Star Trek/being alive, I am weirdly approachable. See, when I was about 14, I tried to submit to a private fic archive, but the beta there tore my submission to shreds, and really I've just now started writing again. And I would really, really hate for that to happen to any of you. So __**seriously**__, if you have any queries or concerns at all, about any fandom or original work, ask me 'em—email, message, anything._


	37. Chapter 37: Obsession

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Thirty-Seven: Obsession_

x

"Oh shit, we should head back."

"What? Why?"

"It's been like an hour, Pavel. I think the race is over. Okay, no, the race _is_ over."

"Just a few more minutes."

"Oh no, quit that, I know how persuasive you are, get away from me—"

"Hikaru! I am sad."

"Don't be sad! We just have to _go_—oh my god, quit giving me that expression. You're like a puppy."

"You cannot resist me! I am too cute!"

"Agh! Get off! Help! Help!"

"Hikaru, come back. I will stop molesting you."

"Promise?"

"Yes. I promise."

"Okay."

"Now we should go."

"Oh fuck, it's been another ten minutes… Pike is going to eat us alive."

"That is not… that is not done in America, is it?"

"Pavel. No. Cannibalism is not accepted _anywhere_. Okay? It's a figure of speech. You are so weird."

"_You_ are so weird!"

"Oh my—okay. Just be quiet."

"Why?"

"Because—"

"… oh. Yes."

"Am I persuasive?"

"Yes. Hikaru, yes, you are."

"Okay. Now? Now are you ready?"

"I could—I would not mind more persuading…"

"I'm not surprised. … Feeling persuaded?"

"Mh."

"Good. Now come _on_."

x

Sulu and Chekov slunk in to the observation room to find Scotty tossing back a Guinness. He eyed them over the edge of the frosted glass.

"Glad t' see you're back," he harrumphed, pulling out his communicator. "Ah'll let Pike know his fishin' equipment is safe. And that th' two o' you're safe as well."

"Thanks," muttered Sulu, blushing. Scotty just shook his head and turned his back to call Pike.

"Zat was fun," said Chekov perkily, leaning in to Sulu's shoulder. "Are we dating?"

"Um," said Sulu. "Yes?"

"Oh, good," said Chekov, kissing Sulu's neck. "I like you wery much."

Scotty hung up and turned to stare, rather forbiddingly, at them. "What?" Sulu demanded self-consciously.

"Pike is goin' t' kill the two o' you," he said sternly. "Ah've been worried as well." Then his round face broke into a big smile. "Ah'm so glad you're finally datin'! Took you long enough."

Chekov grinned at the floor. Sulu, for the first time, felt something really warm sweep over him as he watched Chekov's darting, crinkled eyes. He'd never taken people seriously when they described things as dream-like, but this certainly was. He brushed the tips of his fingers over the skin under Chekov's ear. Chekov blinked, and smiled, eyes flashing up to him. It was amazing that he could do that—just touch Chekov, without asking. Watch him, and be watched.

He became aware that Scotty was still watching _them_, and looked up hastily. Scotty's smile broadened. Sulu felt a relief he hadn't known he needed. People approved. Good. That meant he wasn't crazy for having such a crush on Chekov.

The peace was shattered when Pike barged in and lectured them for fifteen minutes on being careful with his fishing equipment. Kirk and Spock finally showed up, Kirk looking rather put-out that nobody had come to congratulate him on his amazing win. Uhura kept giving Sulu and Chekov overly supportive glances. So when Pike finished glowering at them and said it was time for dinner, Sulu was deeply relieved.

Neither Sulu nor Chekov got much of a chance to talk to each other during dinner and the ride home. They sat beside each other and exchanged lots of bashful looks and tried to hold hands, but everybody kept cooing at them or involving them in games or talking about the race.

On the transport, as everyone else talked, Sulu watched the sun set behind Chekov's glowing head. The red light lingered in Chekov's locks, and sometimes cast his pale face in a rosy glow. Sulu spared a moment to be worried about how young Chekov was. But that was an unnecessary fear: Chekov was not a child. Sulu knew this as he watched Chekov take Chapel's hand during a game of Trial. Chekov's flexor muscles grew, and he moved his arm into the light, so that the thick hairs sprouting there shone scarlet. Later, when Sulu moved his hands across Chekov's back, he felt tension corded beneath Chekov's thin flesh. His heartbeat was strong. And his mind was the muscle Chekov flexed the most.

When they kissed goodnight, Chekov started laughing in the middle, because Sulu had said something funny earlier and he had just understood it. As Chekov giggled, lit up in the flat white headlights of Sulu's van, Sulu watched his shoulders bounce up and down, not like a child on a trampoline, but like a man being jounced on a bed, his back straight and his neck corded strong.

x

Kirk had played twenty-seven games of mahjong, read _The Ethicist_ archives back to like, 2175 on _The New York Times Online_, and downed three doubleshot espressos when he realized that it was 3:22 AM and he really, really needed to start his essay.

He groaned. He didn't feel well. He felt sick. A very my-stomach-contains-only-mocha-laced-caffeine sick. He opened a blank document on his computer and stared at it. Then he found _Comus_ on his PADD, scrolled listlessly through it, and sighed heavily again.

Bones had forced him to edit his essay two hours ago and then gone to bed, and Uhura and Scotty had traded their pieces with each other, like, yesterday (fuckers). Chekov and Sulu weren't online, and Chapel was online but he'd already tried talking to her and guessed, judging by her lack of reply, that she'd forgotten to log out before going to bed. So he didn't even have anybody to tell him to shut his whining face up and write the stupid essay.

Then he texted Spock.

_dude you're probably already finished w/ yours but my English essay is not going well_

He stared at the message for a moment. Why had he done that? He shrugged and put his PADD down. No harm, no foul. It wasn't like Spock was going to reply.

He had coaxed a thesis and four topic sentences out of his limp brain when his PADD buzzed, scaring the shit out of him. It was a text from Spock.

_I am sorry to hear about your essay. In the interest of full disclosure, my essay is not going well either. What is the topic of your composition?_

Woah, thought Kirk, and typed rapidly back,

_comus. dude is a total don juan. fun but hard to analyze. what you writin about?_

He went on with his essay, giddy. He'd come up with a kickass intro when Spock texted back,

_The topic of my essay is Lycidas. I find it entirely appropriate that you chose Comus as your work to analyze. You have so much in common with the main character._

Kirk texted furiously back,

_man fuck you, comus is awesome, he's blatantly trying to get into this girl's pants in the 1600s, that takes courage. and you're such a brownnoser 4 doing lycidas, isn't it like the most complicated poem ever_

Spock replied almost immediately,

_Lycidas is indeed a complex work, which is why I am currently awake at this (as I have heard it called) god-awful hour. Are you aware that in the original production of your masque at Ludlow Castle, Milton himself played Comus?_

Kirk was not aware of that. He verified the fact on the Encyclopaedia Britannica.

_dude_, he replied, _whole new level to the essay. thanks man. lemmie know if u need editing or whatever_

_Thank you_, Spock replied_, and good luck_.

Kirk positively shone. He finished his essay in record time and slept well that night.

x

"Good morning," Kirk chirped to Spock. They were in the parking lot, heading into school.

"Good morning," Spock replied. He looked haggard. Kirk peered at Spock's eyes, which were floating above gray half-circles.

"Bones probably has a cream for that," he said, gesturing at Spock's face. Spock glared at him.

"My essay was difficult to compose," said Spock coolly. "I was awake for some time attempting to—"

"Yeah, that's interesting," said Kirk quickly. He really didn't want to talk about _Lycidas_. "Anyway, you ready for the quiz in physics?"

Spock stared at him for a moment. Finally he said, "Yes," in a rather strained voice.

Kirk laughed. "You forgot about it, didn't you?"

"I do not forget such important things," Spock said snippily. Kirk opened the cafeteria door for him. "Thank you." Spock was silent as they walked past the serving lines. "However, I did neglect to review the information that will be the subject of the quiz."

"Sucks for you," said Kirk sympathetically. "I got up early this morning to study." He waved his subdrive that had his paper on it around. "I nearly forgot this on my nightstand, if that makes you feel any better."

"It does not," said Spock darkly. They turned to go up the stairs to English.

"Well, sorry," said Kirk, adjusting the strap on his bookbag. "Just because you have the memory of a goldfish doesn't mean—"

Spock turned abruptly, surprising Kirk, who fell down the stairs.

x

"Nicely done," said Nurse Phlox, peering at Kirk's thumb. "This is a textbook spiral fracture."

"Wonderful. Amazing," said Kirk, gritting his teeth. He was hunched over the nurse's parchment paper-wrapped examination table, trying not to faint. Spock was hovering nearby, looking as apologetic as he ever did. Kirk could see his legs twitching, though, and he was standing so close to Kirk's shoulder that Kirk could feel his alien body heat keenly. "Can you fix it?"

"No. I do not have the right equipment. Also, I am an RN, not an MD, and the Federation's health policy requires MDs to look at broken bones." The nurse smiled. "I will wrap that for you and call the hospital." He reached for a drawer full of support bandages. "Mr. Spock, you will take Mr. Kirk to the hospital? He cannot drive himself, and it is unnecessary that an ambulance be called."

Kirk glanced over at Spock in time to see consternation flit across his face, then fade into serenity. "I would be pleased to drive Mr. Kirk to the hospital, Nurse Phlox," said Spock.

"Good for you," said the nurse, wrapping Kirk's bandage carefully. "I will contact Sacred Heart. Would you like to pet Emma with your other hand, Mr. Kirk?"

"Sure," said Kirk, wincing slightly as the nurse tightened the bandage before sealing it. The nurse whistled, and a delicate black and white cat emerged from under a bed and leapt nimbly up to Kirk's side. She started purring immediately, even before Kirk reached down to pet her.

Nurse Phlox smiled very, very broadly. "I will return soon," he said.

Spock watched Kirk pet Emma. "Do you like animals, James?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Kirk, rubbing Emma behind the ears. "Never had a pet, though. Other than a turtle who always came to see me in the pond outside of my old high school, in Riverside."

Spock had never heard Kirk talk about his old high school. "Did you like it there?"

"It wasn't bad," said Kirk. "I didn't like Riverside, though. It was too small. I don't like small towns. And I don't like shipyards. Riverside used to be a big agricultural community, but then Starfleet came in and built this giganatic shipyard, and it all changed. I would have been happy if it were just a farming town, truthfully. Instead there were all of these Starfleet brats in school with me. Half the kids disappeared every year. It was all… it was all inexact, and seemed like it would fall apart."

Emma's purring grew louder. Kirk scratched her shoulder blades, then ran his palm down her spine.

"What was Vulcan like?"

Kirk was looking at Spock with calm, clear eyes. Spock felt something strange and uncomfortable crawl up his spine. The room smelled of hydrogen peroxide and clean, sterile linen, and slightly of blood.

"Vulcan was hot," said Spock. "Vulcan was blunt and rocky. You have seen pictures, I presume. It is a red place, red and orange and brown, like some of your deserts, but everywhere. Our buildings were black or gray or blue, and there are no curves in our architecture. Except in school."

Spock paused. Emma sat up, and Kirk moved his hand between her forelegs, to get at her chest. She blinked her wide green eyes at Spock.

"Our classrooms were electronic. We were taught in a vast hall, the Nesh-kur Shi'oren—the Black School. It was a huge expanse of flat floor, with half-circle holes carved in it at regular intervals. The _savensu da-kuv_—the half-circle hole—was filled with photoreceptor screens and communicator electronics. It asked us questions and we answered. The _savensu da-kuv_ were there to teach us facts. Sometimes our _savensu_ _whl'q'n_, our teacher, would take groups of us and ask us questions that we had to discuss; sometimes we were put into larger _savensu da-kuv_, and it would ask many questions of all of us. We were taught intellectual cooperation. But we never learned social cooperation, or anything about social interactions other than Vulcan customs and traditions, and the customs and traditions of other species. But we did not learn any of the _why_s, like we are taught on Earth. Here, it is said, 'People act this way because…' but on Vulcan, it is said, 'People should act this way.'"

Nurse Phlox came back in just as Kirk was composing his expression. "I have notified the hospital," he said, going over to Kirk and adjusting his bandage again. "They should be able to see you soon, but evidently they have an influx of patients today, so the visit could take some time." He smiled at Kirk and Spock again. "I will notify your teachers, and your parents, if you would like."

"You don't have to tell my mom," said Kirk with a sigh. "I'll do it."

"And I will inform my father," said Spock. "Thank you, though."

"Of course," said Nurse Phlox. He tapped his PADD and transferred a leaving-grounds pass to Kirk's PADD. "You are free to go. Be _very_ careful with the hand, Mr. Kirk."

"Thanks, Nurse Phlox," said Kirk, getting gingerly down from the bed. The slight painkiller the nurse had given him when he had first staggered into the office was helping, but not as much as he would like.

"Is there anything that you need?" Spock said as Kirk stepped into the hall, holding his hand in front of him.

"I'm good," said Kirk shortly. The movement just from walking was reverberating through his feet, up his legs and spine, down his arms, and into his thumb, which was beginning to throb. "You don't have any booze, do you?"

Spock looked offended at the very idea. "Of course not, James."

"You're not a prude," Kirk snapped. "You got wasted at Halloween." He scowled at the gray and white tiles passing beneath him. "Why'd you have to go and scare me like that? Now look. We're going to miss English and also, fucking _ow_."

"I am very sorry," said Spock tiredly. He had said this about eighty times after Kirk had bounced down the stairs and landed with a crunch and a scream. "I was offended that you were comparing me to a goldfish. Goldfish are my least favorite type of fish."

Kirk goggled at him. "Goldfish are your least favorite type of fish."

"Yes."

"What the fuck? Why do you have a least favorite type of fish?"

"Because I do," said Spock snippily. "I do not like goldfish. They are dirty and they are stupid. They are sometimes pretty, but other fish are more beautiful. For example, tetras have incredible colors, and loaches are playful."

"Tetras just _sit there_."

Spock opened the door for Kirk, but grudgingly. "I like them. They are self-contained and reasonable fish."

"You are _so weird_." Kirk shook his head. "So, have you ever broken a bone?"

"Yes," said Spock easily. "My back, my skull, my arms, and five ribs."

Kirk stared at him. "Shit, man. What happened?"

Spock looked ahead as he said, "I jumped off of a cliff."

"You—" Kirk's thumb started to throb even more intensely. "That's how you tried to kill yourself?"

"Yes."

"How old were you?"

"Thirteen."

"Wow," said Kirk. Then, "I was twelve."

"What did you do?"

"I overdosed on acetaminophen. Mom made me throw it up."

They were quiet for a while. The building was only a few meters behind them, and Spock's Volvo shone at the edge of the lot. It was a cloudy, breezy day, and leaves whirled around their ankles like a shallow stream of water.

"What did your parents do?" Kirk asked quietly. In the clouds overhead, the sun flickered.

"They moved us here," said Spock. "We left Vulcan very quickly after I healed, although the healing… the healing took some time. For a while, I was resistant to being healed. I re-broke my spine when I first awoke. I was in physical therapy for two years, but I have shown no signs of permanent damage." Spock got out his keys. They were close to his car. "What did your parents do?"

"That's a complicated question," said Kirk, staring at the car and not Spock. "My mom went… well, you've met her. You sort of know how she is. She—she was herself cubed. She got seriously intense and crazy and protective and really made shit happen."

Spock wanted to say, "Such as?" but they were getting into the car, and there was an unfathomable expression on Kirk's face.

"She was so nice," Kirk said, after a while. "She hadn't been, before that. Well, she was, but she wasn't around very much. Sam doesn't remember much of it, much of how she was before, because he's only a few years older than me, but he always said mom was different before dad died, which—makes sense. But after, she took all these crazy assignments in Starfleet, all off-planet, and didn't accept any promotions, and started… doing kind of badly, actually. She kept getting demoted, and should have been discharged, Sam told me, only they wouldn't, because of dad. She dated all of these guys—never girls, and Sam told me before, she dated guys and girls equally, or that's what he remembered—and we didn't like any of them. And she married this one."

Spock saw Kirk's hands twitch out of the corner of his eye. He pretended he hadn't seen, and started the car.

"We did _not_ get along," said Kirk, and it was almost a laugh, the way he said it, but it was so far form a laugh that it was more like a sob—a grating, sharp one. "Sam and I hated him and he hated us, and mom left us to go work on some starbase, and we'd never even been offplanet. The only thing we had was dad's old car. It was this beautiful '95 Corvette, cardinal red, with a hydro-gas engine and everything. Mom had it locked in a shed but me and Sam always stole the keys and went and cleaned it and worked on it, when Frank was gone. But one time, mom came home, and—around this time, she barely talked to us. She always frowned, and didn't do anything with her hair, or try to dress up. She didn't pay any attention to us. She and Frank were drinking downstairs and Sam and I were upstairs playing some game, and we heard them leave the house, and we went to the bathroom window and saw them going to the garage, and we opened the window and heard them talking about the car—like it was _theirs_, not dad's. And a month later, after mom left for Regulus IV, Frank said he was going to sell the car. And Sam—Sam completely freaked out. Sam was fourteen and I was eleven, then. He and Frank got into this—this _huge_ fight, and Sam _left_. He stormed out and he just—disappeared." Kirk stared out the window, unblinkingly. "He abandoned me. And Frank got so angry."

They were on the road, now. The hospital wasn't far off. Kirk's hands twitched again, and Kirk grimaced. He'd jostled his thumb.

"What did you do?" Spock asked cautiously.

"I stole the car," Kirk said, and unexpectedly, a grin slid over his face. "And then I drove it off the edge of a cliff."

Spock turned his whole head to gape inelegantly at Kirk for a full second, before Kirk screeched, "Red light!" and lunged for the wheel. Spock slammed on the brakes and stopped a full ten meters before the stop bar. There wasn't even anybody around he could have run in to.

"I'm already injured!" Kirk shouted, waving his bandaged hand. "Stop that! I want to live _now!_"

Spock shoved down the impulse to laugh hysterically. "Think of this as revenge. I surprised you, so you surprised me."

"Yeah, but you _broke my thumb_. This would have broken my… I don't know, _everything_? Car crashes are still bad! You didn't have to react that way!"

"Neither did you," Spock pointed out.

Kirk scowled at him. "Green light."

Spock hit the gas.

x

At the hospital, Kirk approached the front desk while Spock parked his car. The receptionist looked harried. He looked up and Kirk saw that his collar was undone and his tie was loosened to halfway down his chest.

"Can I help you, sir?" he said politely.

"Yeah, I'm James Kirk, Nurse Phlox from Enterprise High School called ahead…"

"Yes, we've been expecting you," said the receptionist. "If you could verify here and then have a seat…" He gestured to the thumbprint pad at the front of the desk.

Kirk pressed his left thumb to the screen (it was his right one that was broken), which flashed green. The receptionist smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Kirk." He went back to his computer, then glanced back at Kirk, who had stared to move away. "Mr. Kirk? You should know—there's going to be a slight delay, since you're not an emergency case. I'm very sorry."

"Oh. How come?" Kirk asked.

"The International Wrestling Tournament started its special bracket today," said the receptionist. "Humans versus Klingons. We keep getting humans with broken bones, so all of the osteoregenerators are in use right now. Again, I'm very sorry."

"It's fine," said Kirk, trying not to laugh. "If you see any of them, say good luck."

"It's too late for that," said the receptionist gloomily.

Kirk went to sit down in a far waiting seat. The waiting room was very small, and quite empty. Nobody ever had to wait at hospitals; they were extremely efficient these days.

Spock came in, half of his hair sticking up from the strengthening wind outside. Kirk told him what was going on, and they settled in to a comfortable silence.

After a while, Kirk's thumb started throbbing again. To distract himself—but mainly because he was curious—he said to Spock, "How many people have you dated?"

Spock blinked. "Three," he said.

"Who were they?"

"Why are you asking?"

"I can't ask? I was just wondering." Kirk did his best to look innocent.

"I have dated Nyota, Evan Gray, and Yvette Gessard." Spock eyed Kirk. "How many people have _you_ dated?"

"Seven, officially," said Kirk.

Spock was surprised. "That is a low number, James."

"Yeah, I don't know the number I've had sex with." Kirk grinned. Spock sighed. "So why didn't it work out?"

"Why did what not work out?" said Spock innocently.

Kirk glared at him. "Don't be purposefully obtuse, Spock. Why aren't you and Mr. Gray or Ms. Gessard still dating? Or you and Nyota, for that matter?"

"Evan and I had differences of opinion. Yvette moved back to France. And Nyota and I—you know what happened."

Kirk did.

"Why this sudden interest in my romantic background?" Spock asked.

Kirk tried not to panic. "Like I said, I can't ask? I just—since you're half-and-half, I wondered how you worked with people. If… that makes any sense."

Spock shrugged. "I do not like people very much, to be honest."

"How come?"

"I did not grow up with people whose company I enjoyed. My mother was my only true companion. My peers—the Vulcans who went to school with me—they were less than welcoming to me. Humans are much more open than Vulcans." Spock's eyes were glassy, faraway. "Vulcans are not kind."

Kirk thought about his childhood: of being dragged between shipyards, of the many schools, the many kids who were too afraid of him to make fun of him. He had always wondered what it was like to have stayed the same, and constant, in one place, and for the first time, it struck him that for all the neglect, all the upheaval, all the confusion in his childhood, at least he hadn't been trapped.

There was a lesson, there. As soon as you stopped moving, things could get you. As soon as Winona settled down in Riverside, Kirk's life went wrong. As soon as Spock became mobile, came to Earth, his life got better.

"On Vulcan," said Spock softly, "there is nothing more important than sameness. We adhere to the same rules. Our customs are set in stone, and literally. And there my father was, a diplomat trying to bring his Vulcan mindset to Earth. Vulcans are open-minded in that they know they should be, to other species. So he married mother, and he and mother had me. And there our problems began." He shook his head, ruefully. "Mother was a rebel, even for a human. She showed me how reasonable it was to think outside the box. Father enjoyed that, I think. But even so, he did not entirely accept her—he could not. He was entirely Vulcan. But I—I had her in me, and him, and I straddled the line exactly. And nobody could understand that, not even mother, and especially not the children who attended the Nesh-kur Shi'oren."

Spock glanced over at Kirk, who was watching him intently. "That surprises me," said Kirk. "That you let them affect you."

Spock blinked. "I never said they did."

"Of course they did," said Kirk. "They had to have. People affected me. Or they would have, if I'd've let them."

"It is not like it is easy," snapped Spock. "Not letting people affect you. Especially when they do it over and over again. Especially when they know exactly what to say or do to hurt you."

Kirk's mind reeled. He actually drew away from Spock. He had never expected Spock, of all people, to encapsulate what he felt so perfectly and exactly. "I know," he said passionately. "I know. That's what the boarding bridge is for, Spock."

Spock had opened his mouth to reply when a nurse stuck her head out of the access door. "James Kirk?"

"I will stay," said Spock. Kirk nodded, and disappeared into the corridor. The nurse closed the door behind him.

Spock sat back, and let out the breath he had been holding.

x

They drove back to school.

"How did you and Nyota get together?" Kirk asked. They had not said a word to each other since Kirk had left to get his thumb healed.

"She was at the right place, in the right time," said Spock. "I liked her very much, and she approached me at a time during which I needed her." He glanced sidelong at Kirk. "And you and Leonard?"

Kirk laughed. "I just thought dating Bones would be a good idea. You know how he is—crazy in the best way. Good for me, to be romantically involved with a friend. I thought." The laugh turned bitter. "We know how that worked out."

"You were the one who ruined it," Spock pointed out mercilessly.

"That's not entirely true," said Kirk, eyebrow quirked. "But he's not really to blame. He's not very perceptive, but he's not to blame." He shifted around in his seat. "Spock, how on earth are you dealing with Nero?"

Spock's nostrils flared. "What makes you think I am?"

Kirk shrugged. "Good point. But don't you—I mean, how are you not just wanting to go kill him?"

"I would rather not speak on the subject," said Spock harshly. He jerked the car into a hard left turn. They were pulling into the school parking lot.

"Sorry," said Kirk quietly. "I worry about you."

Spock softened as he peered down the rows, looking for a space. "It is fine, James. He is a ghost to me, a ghost that I try not to think of." As he pulled into a spot, he said, "The time will come for revenge."

"It will," said Kirk. "I'm glad you think revenge needs to be had."

"I accept the modern theory of justice, which states that mercy in all things is necessary for the preservation of law. But, 'In order to preserve the highest ideals of liberty, we must constantly push at its boundaries, searching for new truths, even when they might uproot those we formerly clung to.'" Spock lips curved, feral. "I am seeing new paths, James. Paths that finish with that which finishes us all."

"That's how I know you're not fully human," said Kirk. "The very idea of revenge is just now occurring to you." He glanced down at his PADD, and saw the time. "Oh look," he said. "We've missed physics."

"What a shame," said Spock, the slightest hint of a laugh flickering in his deep voice.

x


	38. Chapter 38: Operation: Annihilate!

A/N: This chapter is for Emma, who is completely wonderful. It's also for Nina, who DREW ME FANART, which can be found at my Livejournal. (GIRL ILY)

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Thirty-Eight: Operation: Annihilate!_

x

The air was cold, dry, and still. It was early February, a dark Thursday morning. Bones bundled into a thick windbreaker and tiptoed across the Enterprise High parking lot. It had rained the night before, and he wouldn't put it past the concrete to harbor patches of ice.

He unlocked the door to the garage and opened it, a long rectangle of light appearing at his feet from the streetlamps outside. The _Enterprise_ was hidden beneath its dustsheet. The shop was nearly clean; they had spent most of the week organizing. After the last race, the hoverclub hadn't had much to do on the hover, so they had attacked their garage in preparation for building their new craft.

Bones tugged the sheet off of the corner of the _Enterprise_. He wasn't particularly sentimental about vehicles, but he'd worked long and hard on this one. He couldn't tell you how the damn thing worked—well, he probably could, but that was by accident—but he loved it, and he'd loved being a part of its creation.

A single circular light reflected off of its silver hull. Bones stared at the light until the image was blue-white in his eyes, then tossed the sheet back down and muttered, "Fuck sentiment."

He went over and placed the last piece of the puzzle down on the worktable. A little washer that fixed the body of the magnet in place had been lost in the midst of the last race, and during their final check of the _Enterprise_ the day before, they had discovered it was missing. It probably wouldn't have done a thing if they hadn't caught it, but it was good they did—just in case. Bones had volunteered to purchase a replacement.

The washer would be installed later. Bones took one last look at the _Enterprise _and turned off the light. He walked through the maze of hallway until he reached the school's secondary corridors, then paced down three of them to a staircase. Taking the stairs two at a time, he strode to Mr. Maru's room, footsteps echoing.

Outside the classroom, he sat down, pulled out his PADD, and started to read.

x

_First period_

"Now, if you would turn to page 23… Would anybody like to tell me about the complexity of Mamet's argument, especially in the context of the relationship between men and women?"

Mr. Maru glared around the room. There was a total lack of visible response. No hands went up. Spock, sighing inaudibly, didn't get the social complexities in the play and was generally irritated by it. The rest of the class simply didn't feel like answering.

Mr. Maru kept glaring, then picked a victim. "Mr. Sulu?"

Sulu sat up quickly in his chair and erased the dinosaurs he'd been doodling on his PADD. "Um," he said. "Er. I don't know much about relationships between men and women, Mr. Maru."

The class giggled. Mr. Maru glared around at them.

"Very mature. Would anybody of the generally heterosexual inclination like to explain?"

"Hey," said Gaila sharply, "you don't have to be heterosexual to understand male/female relationships. I think Mamet is trying to say…"

She made about a billion good points, and the half-hearted explanations that had been forming in other people's minds died quickly. Gaila, an undeniable expert on sex and sexuality, was blowing everyone out of the water. (So to speak.)

Spock commented in his notes, _I do not understand Terran literature. Why humans are compelled to describe their relationships and actions in terms of "metaphors" and "similes" instead of within a decent psychology or even sociology textbook is beyond me. Relationships are not that complex._ (Even as he wrote it, Spock knew he was wrong; he simply felt anti-analytical that day.) _Like people, they can be managed._

"Oh come on. You know that's bull," said a voice from behind him.

Spock jumped and whipped around, his PADD clattering on his desk. (Mr. Maru glared some more.) "James!" he whisper-hissed at Kirk, who was leaning right over his shoulder and gazing at him artlessly. "Kindly do _not_ intrude into my personal files! And I may express my own opinions about human nature, I will thank you to know."

"But if they're _wrong_ opinions," Kirk hazarded. Chekov was making a long-winded, heavily accented point about the play, so Mr. Maru was preoccupied. Kirk spoke in a near-to-normal voice.

Spock recited from memory: "The Oxford Standard Dictionary entry states that an opinion is 'a judgment formed or a conclusion reached, or a view held about a particular issue.' At no point in Standard does the word 'opinion' imply a right-or-wrong dichotomy."

"Bad news," said Kirk unsympathetically, "now it does. Why would you even _say_ that about relationships?"

"You are _so_ irritating," Spock growled. Mr. Maru had finally extracted a conclusion from Chekov and turned on Spock.

"Mr. Spock," he snapped. "If you have something to say, please share it with the class. If you and Mr. Kirk are merely flirting, please take it outside."

There was a pregnant pause while everybody waited for Spock to react. Kirk twitched some and considered blushing, then went with staring at the ceiling. Spock, after staring at Mr. Maru blankly for a while, eventually just looked back down at his PADD, his ears completely green.

T'Pring was sitting in the back. She wasn't human, but if she were, she would have grinned. Spock's _kha'vhek vok'a_ were spiking madly, and had been for quite a while.

x

_Second period_

"I, personally, am very unhappy that Maru was implying that only heterosexuals know about male/female relationships," Gaila pouted as she walked in to physics. "I mean, _male/female relationships_? Haven't people been debating this for, like, five thousand years? And _how_ long have people been talking about same-sex relationships for? Like—five hundred years, and most of that in whispers!"

"Gaila, you're generally heterosexual," said Sulu, who was right behind her.

Gaila leveled her finger at him. "Did you really just say that? I will hurt you."

"What? It's a fact!"

"You guys are not interested in sexual theory at all, are you?" grumbled Gaila, flopping into her seat.

Kirk _would_ have been interested in that debate, which continued, if Spock hadn't've sat down next to him wearing a blank look that had clearly been carefully sculpted.

"Hey?" said Kirk.

"Mh," said Spock, not even looking at Kirk and getting supplies out of his bag.

"You okay?"

"Yes, James," Spock snapped. "I am perfectly normal, thank you very much."

Kirk snorted. "Excuse me, Dursley."

"I do not enjoy being made fun of." Spock leaned straight over his desk, working intently at his PADD. Kirk stared along the line of his ears, waxy and verdant.

"Maru wasn't making fun of you," Kirk said. "He was just being a dick, which—you know the guy, right? When _isn't_ he being a dick?"

"He has not been a dick to _me_," Spock muttered. One half of Kirk wanted to shriek that Spock had just said "dick." The other half won out.

"You haven't been treated badly very often, have you?" said Kirk.

Spock looked up, at this. "Excuse me?"

Kirk felt uncomfortable, like he had uncovered a grave inadvertently. "Never mind," he said, scooping earth back over the casket.

Spock opened his mouth, but Pike whirled in, shedding wires and wide-eyed appeal. "I have the experiment set up," he said, motioning at the door. "Come on, it'll take all class! Lab E! Move!"

Physics trooped down to lab E. Pike had set up an experiment in which the students were calculating the charge to mass ratio of the electron. Seven cathode ray tubes were humming on various tables. The students broke up into groups of two and three and started centering and leveling the solenoid with the help of a laser.

Gaila was still talking about heteronormativity. "It's basically a way to exert power over deviants," she said darkly, hiking the solenoid up a few millimeters.

"Quit preachin' to the choir," said Bones, winking over at Kirk, who had holed up with Spock at a back table. Kirk grinned, pleased that it wasn't weird to joke with Bones about that anymore.

"Kirk! Do you think heterosexual sex is one way that men maintain power over women?" Gaila yelled across the lab. Pike accidentally broke his chalk.

"No!" Kirk called back. "I think sex is awesome, but if the person I'm having sex with doesn't think it's awesome, then it's not! But then, that's just me, so maybe for some men?"

"Children," said Pike patiently. "Let's keep on track, shall we?"

"Physics is totally related to sex," said Gaila, sticking out her bottom lip.

"We'll debate that later," said Pike, tapping Gaila's lab. "Concentrate, Gaila."

"I am concentrating!" Gaila protested, flipping the solenoid without even looking. "I can do this experiment in my sleep, Mr. Pike! If the accelerating potential is 8 V, and the distance between the screen and the anode is 3.44 L, the current is 889 i, the dimensions are 4 by 3.33 by 4.12 L', and we turn the solenoid 17 times, then the e/m, if you take e/m = V/B(2)L(2), where B = iL'L(4), is 78.33536." Gaila paused. "No, 78.33537. Dangit, hand me a calculator."

Bones passed one over. Gaila tapped at it rapidly. She wasn't as good with calculations as Kirk or Spock, but she could work the formulas better than either of them.

"Yeah, okay, it's 78.33537. I'm bad at decimals." She beamed up at Pike. "Can I turn in my lab now and talk about sex?"

"I love her," Kirk sighed while Pike spluttered. "Spock, write that equation down."

"I already have," said Spock, his voice slightly biting. "I had formulated the equation before Gaila."

"Yeah, right," said Kirk, totally skeptical. "Anyway, I hadn't, I was distracted by—" He realized that his mouth was on autopilot and that he was about to say "you," and nearly bit his tongue off closing his mouth.

"By the experiment?" said Spock derisively. "It is much too simple. You are losing your touch, James."

Pike eventually shook his head in some despair and coerced Gaila into repairing a cathode ray tube somebody had broken, which was beyond most teenagers, but certainly not her.

"Kirk," said Gaila, lugging her CRT over to Kirk and Spock's station. "If a guy is having sex with a guy, is the first guy straight?"

"Um," said Kirk, trying to figure out the accelerating potential of his CRT, which was tough, because he always got distracted when sex came up. "He's whatever he thinks he is."

Gaila made a sweeping gesture. "There!"

Sulu, a few desks away, did not look like he could deal with this. "But he is having _sex_ with a _man_."

"So?" said Kirk. "He can be whatever he wants to be. Wait, why does this even matter?" He glared at Gaila. "Are you pushing people's buttons again? Quit that."

"I just wanted to make them think," said Gaila innocently.

Spock, who was at the end of the table messing with the power source, made the mistake of coming back. "Think about what, Gaila?" he asked.

Sulu sighed.

"Do you think that sex is good or bad?" Gaila said.

"What?" Spock was alarmed. "Excuse me?"

"You can ignore her," said Kirk, glaring at Gaila. "She likes to be confrontational."

"I think that sexual activity does not—" Spock paused to eye Kirk. "Like _opinions_, I believe that sexual activity cannot be called 'good' or 'bad'."

"Do you like sex?" Gaila pressed.

Spock tried not to blush, but it was difficult because of Kirk's proximity. "Gaila, my opinion on sexual activity is not necessary to—to whatever argument it is that you are trying to make."

"Okay, do you think people should have sex?"

Spock was confused. "Sexual activity is necessary to reproduction."

"Untrue. God! How can you even say that? Have you heard of science? Also, what about non-heterosexual sex?"

"Gaila, stop," said Kirk pleadingly. "We are not as good at physics as you are and we need to concentrate." Spock looked like he wanted to protest, but Kirk kicked his shin. "Also, people can have their own opinions, alright? This is something you agree with?"

"If their opinions are wrong—" Gaila sighed. "I'm sorry. Close-mindedness just frustrates me."

"I am not—" Spock tried, but Kirk kicked him again. "James! _Stop_ that!"

"Ignore him, he's just crazy," Kirk assured Gaila. He tugged Spock over to the supply room, out of hearing, and sight, of everyone else.

"OW," hissed Spock, holding his ankle delicately and balancing against a shelf of hydrochloric acid, which struck Kirk as less than safe, but he wasn't about to point this out, having put Spock in the position in the first place, and oh, that was a provocative thought. Huh. _Anyway_.

"I'm sorry," said Kirk, "it's just—even if you _agree_ with Gaila, once she gets on her sex boat, she doesn't stop floating until she sinks it herself." Weird phrasing, but he didn't think Spock would notice.

Spock was clearly in a very bad mood. "Is this going to be another boarding bridge metaphor?"

"You are such a bitch sometimes. I am just saying, if you want to get this lab done, we have to concentrate."

"Gaila finished the lab in _five minutes_," said Spock. "She is _not_ better than we are at physics!"

"We just aren't concentrating! And yes, actually, she is better than us at physics, she has a higher grade in physics than we do, don't you ever check the grades?"

Spock hadn't checked the grades in a few weeks because he had accidentally gotten a 98 on a quiz in English, and didn't feel like torturing himself by looking at it. "No, not recently," he glared. "Since when is _Gaila_—"

"This is kind of what she was talking about," said Kirk, rather quietly. "Now stop being sexist and come help me figure out the goddamn accelerating potential."

x

_Third period_

Spock decided to have a small mental crisis during history as they were supposed to be discussing the political ramifications of the First Contact. Everybody was gossiping in stead of discussing, of course.

"I am not sexist," he said hopefully to Uhura, who was watching a documentary about Solkar and Cochrane on her PADD.

"Yeah," said Uhura unconvincingly, pausing the vid. "Of course."

"In what ways do you perceive that I am sexist?"

"You _always_ tried to buy my dinner."

"That is merely polite behavior—"

"No, it's assuming that I'm not a self-sufficient woman capable of providing for myself."

"You live with your parents."

"One, so do you, two, not the point," said Uhura. "Actually, you're really not bad, Spock. Compared to some people." She glared at Kirk, who was eyeing Helen Noel as she chewed on her stylus. "It's hard for guys not to be sexist. It's built in by society, even now. Which is depressing." She rested her chin on her palm, sighing. "Anyway, don't worry about it. Just be aware of it. Men get better as they mature."

Spock wanted to protest this, maybe—okay, he wasn't sure—and he was just trying to get a handle on his feelings when Gaila sat down right in front of him and leveled her stylus at his nose.

"I bet," said Gaila, speaking loudly, "that Kirk can't keep it in his pants for a month, and Spock won't go on a date with anybody who asks him out today."

"What?" said Kirk blankly, turning around in his seat.

"Seriously. This is a real bet," said Gaila, who did not look as if she were kidding. "Do you want to take it?"

"Gaila," said Spock. "Please."

"I am trying to make the point," said Gaila, "that you two are more boring than you should be."

Kirk bristled. "_I'm_ boring? What is that supposed to mean?"

"That you're boring, dumbass," laughed Gaila. "Leo, am I right?"

Bones was talking to Chapel. He paused to reply. "I heard somethin' about dumbasses and Jim," he said. "Whatever it is, I agree."

"I hate you," Kirk pointed out.

"No, about how boring Jim and Spock are," said Gaila, flipping her hair. "Spock's a Vulcan, right? That's pretty cool. But he's not using his Vulcan wiles to get chicks, which, what is up with that? I would totally use my Vulcan wiles to get chicks. And Jim… man, you were interesting for a while, but now you're not even trying. You just sleep with people _randomly_—I haven't been sensing a pattern lately… It's like you're losing enthusiasm for sex!" She waggled her finger at them. "I am so sad."

"Woman has a point," said Bones, having deposited his backpack at his desk and come back over. "I'd be amused to watch Jim _not_ sleep with things. He'd turn blue in seconds."

"I am not that easy," Kirk protested.

Even Spock looked disbelieving.

"As if," said Sulu, from all the way across the room.

"Hey!"

Spock finally got a chance to speak. "Vulcans do not have _wiles_."

"Everybody has wiles," said Gaila wisely.

Spock changed the subject (slightly). "Why do you want to make this bet, Gaila?"

"More importantly, what's your counter offer?" Kirk cut in.

Gaila shrugged. "I don't know. I'll… I'll jump off the roof of the school during prom."

There was a bit of a silence.

"You will what?" said Chekov.

"I mean, with_bungee cords_," said Gaila, rolling her eyes.

"Oh," said everybody.

"Sound good?"

"Wearing a dress," said Kirk, sitting back up again and looking dire. "A really billowy dress. And…"

"Sparklers," Uhura put in. "Green and red, I'm thinking."

Gaila nodded seriously. "Doable."

"Also heels," said Kirk.

"You pick 'em."

"Sweet. And if we don't come through?"

Gaila stroked her chin. "I know. If you lose the bet—same thing."

Kirk threw back his head and laughed. "It's on." He spit in his palm and shook with Gaila. Spock looked absolutely horrified.

"First: safety. Neither of you can possibly image that bungee jumping off of a building is in any way a wise plan. Second: James, really? With the saliva? Third: Again, Vulcans _do not have wiles._ Fourth: I am not accepting this bet."

"Dude, I already accepted it," said Kirk. "Nothing you can do."

"There most certainly is!"

"Come on," said Kirk. "It's not a big deal. Think of it as an opportunity to see who wants to date you. We'll spread the word, and you can go out with some people, and see who's your type, and, you know, so on."

Spock hesitated.

"Unless you think nobody wants to date you," said Kirk, an idea dawning. "Which is just stupid, because you're a total catch. Here, I'll start it off—want to get dinner with me sometime?"

It wasn't until Spock said "yes" very quietly that Kirk realized how fast his heart was beating.

x

_Fourth period_

Gaila had superpowers. By lunch, everybody knew, and it was awful.

Kirk had expected to win the bet easily. After all, Spock was the person he was interested in. Gaila was right: Kirk had really just been sleeping around because it was instinctual (which said more about him than he wanted to know). But it turned that Kirk had a sex drive. (Who knew?)

"Okay, some of us are in a relationship here," said Sulu, leaning across the lunch table after the latest parade of scantily-clad boys and girls had gone by. "Can't you eat elsewhere? I'm getting seriously distracted."

"I tried the library, but they kicked me out," said Kirk, ashen-faced. "Evidently everybody was talking too much. Oh, God, this is horrible."

Spock, who was furiously scribbling down the name of yet another date, glared at Gaila, who was chewing her sandwich cheerily. "How did you do this?"

"What? Oh, tell everybody? I just used Kirk's network loophole and sent notifications to everybody's PADDs. Looks like they all want to see the two of you in dresses."

Lenore from their English class pranced up, her collared shirt unbuttoned nearly to her navel, and sat right down in Kirk's lap.

"I'm not even going to be subtle—as you can tell," she purred, flipping her blonde hair out of Kirk's face so that she could better shove her breasts into it. "My car, five minutes. You're going to need to wear the heels, though."

Kirk stared at Lenore's chest for long moments, then turned to Gaila. "One month? Are you _sure?_"

Gaila grinned toothily. "Oh, I'm sure."

Lenore made room for Mallory, a junior, who had unbuttoned his shirt as well. They both asked Spock out. By the time they got off of Kirk's lap, his legs had fallen asleep and his erection was gigantic.

"I am beginning to feel ill," said Spock loudly.

"Nope," said Gaila, waving her finger. "No going home early. That's cheating."

"Yours isn't as bad," said Kirk grumpily, crossing his legs. "They're not sexually assaulting you."

"Yes, but you do not have to interact with them at a later date," said Spock. He held up his list. _"Sixty_, James. _Sixty people_."

"Jesus."

"Indeed."

Gaila laughed.

x

_Fifth period_

Kirk's military history class was stacked with the types of people that didn't go on dates very often. Most of them were attractive, but they weren't interested in pursuing relationships.

Except, today, with Kirk's penis. Once, when the teacher left the class, half of them took off their shirts.

"This is awesome," he said to Brent, who was asexual. "And by awesome I mean _the worst_."

"I really do not feel bad for you," said Brent. "You didn't have to accept the bet."

"Everyone keeps telling me that! Of course I had to. My honor was at stake." Brent made a noise that sounded quite a lot like a laugh. "Hey!"

"Oh, come on. Because you care about your honor."

"Not _that_ honor. But I'm not a coward."

"You're like James Bond, though. Sex is part of your thing. This has got to be crippling you."

Kirk thought that it would be worse if he didn't have a crush on Spock, but didn't say so. "Yes. It is. I can't even walk."

"That has to do with your gigantic boner, though, right?"

Kirk jumped and hurriedly covered his lap. "Can you _see _it?"

Brent laughed. "Through the desk? I was merely assuming. I seem to have assumed correctly."

Spock, meanwhile, had been asked on a date by everyone in his programming class. Everyone. Except for the teacher. But, _everyone_.

He sent an email to Kirk.

_Dear James,_

_Eighty-two._

_Spock_

He had to delete "P.S.: I loathe you" from the end of it, but mainly because he had accidentally typed "love" instead of "loathe."

x

_Sixth period_

The situation was growing desperate.

"Perhaps I could hold a mass date," said Spock hopefully, running his finger over his bottom lip. Kirk couldn't look away. "I could contact all of those who have propositioned me and set the event up at a large café, perhaps."

"Gaila probably wouldn't go for that," said Kirk. Spock's fingers paused at the corner of his mouth, then slid down his chin to curl into a slight fist that he propped his head on. His pointer finger twitched a little.

"True." Spock glanced around. "The rush has calmed."

Spock drew out the word _calmed_, his mouth oh-ing for a long moment, his tongue flicking out to tap his top teeth at the end of the l, his lips parting again after the final d.

"You don't do that very often," Kirk said automatically.

"Excuse me?"

Spock's eyes were piercing. Kirk thought they looked—different.

"You don't—take a long time to say words."

"_Calm_ is a long word to say," said Spock, wrapping his mouth around the syllable.

"It is," murmured Kirk, his hands clenching under the desk.

"It comes from an ancient Greek word," Spock continued. "It means 'to burn,' 'to be on fire.' Laying in the sun, one would seem to burn; sunny days where not much moved were calm. Calm applied primarily to the weather, once. Now it describes a tranquil emotional state." He smiled very slightly; a simple upturn at the corner of his mouth. "I would describe myself as a calm person. I believe the entirety of the description implied to be accurate."

Kirk stared at Spock. "I don't know what to say to that."

Spock shrugged. "If you do not know what to say, do not say anything at all."

They were both silent for the rest of that period.

x

It was a weird moment, to say the least. Spock went to the bathroom between sixth and seventh period and leaned his head against the partition of his stall. It was quiet. The pattern of the tiles was easily discernible, and the antiseptic smell was heaven to his nose. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

Kirk made him _say_ things, sometimes.

He tugged at his ears and cleaned his glasses on his shirt, wishing that he had remembered to put his cleaning cloth back in his satchel. He ran his hands over the little tortoiseshell buttons on his shirt. They glowed at an angle in the light. His mind flashed to kissing Kirk, to running his lips over his lips, to falling so apart that there were no more names or pronouns needed.

A quick exhalation. Spock emerged, straightening his clothing busily. He held his hands in the sonic cleanser for exactly ten seconds and left the room at a march.

He was calm.

x

_Seventh period_

Scotty leaned over to Bones. "Did you remember t' get th' washer, Leo?"

"Yep," said Bones. "Put it on the table."

"Ah cannae believe th' last race is tomorrow," Scotty confided in him. "Th' last race with this hover, ah mean."

"I know, it's strange," Bones agreed. "I'll miss her. And I don't look forward to buildin' the new one."

"Well, I don't know about that," Scotty said. Bones grinned.

"Why'm I not surprised? You've got the blueprints and everythin' for it, haven't you?"

"Of course ah do. Want t' see 'em?"

"Maybe later," Bones laughed. "I gotta turn in this assignment."

Later, when almost everyone was done with their work, Kirk asked Bones the same question, and they got to talking about the bet after a while.

"How's that goin' for ya?" said Bones. "You seemed not too hard up when we were datin'. I mean, excludin' how it ended."

"Yeah, definitely excluding that," said Kirk. "No, see, it wasn't bad then because me and you were making out, like, constantly. And then there were the blow jobs, after a while. Those were good."

"Those _were_ good."

They reflected silently for a moment.

"Anyway, no, I was fine," said Kirk. "Because I was in a relationship. But now. This is different. This is _awful_ because I _can't_ do anything. I am pretty sure that Gaila defines sex as really intense eye contact, so I can't even do any heavy petting. And okay, it's only been a few hours, but this is going to go on for _four weeks_."

"How is she gonna know?"

"Hey," said Kirk. "I don't cheat."

Bones raised his eyebrow.

"I mean—I don't—listen, this is…"

"There's no way you can get out of this."

"Quit making fun of me."

"I couldn't possibly. It's my favorite pastime. I know what you mean, Jim. Don't worry. You'll be fine. Just start concentratin' on Spock. You've been just flirtin' with him so much lately. You should go for it."

"What? No."

"Oh. I see. You're scared."

"James Tiberius Kirk is scared of _nothing_."

"Yeah, yeah. You're scared of that Vulcan, though." Bones glared at Spock. "As well you should be. That pointy-eared bastard."

"I'm not scared of Spock."

"You are, though. You're afraid he'll reject you when you ask him out."

"Nope. I already asked him out."

Bones rolled his eyes. "You know that doesn't count."

The bell rang. Kirk stood up hastily. "I'll see you tomorrow, Bones."

"Later, Jim," Bones sighed.

x

LBSU's motto was _Vox veritas vita:_ Voice, truth, life. The next day was a slightly overcast Friday. As the hoverclub unloaded the _Enterprise_ onto the LBSU track, Kirk thought that the motto was pretty perfect. Life was extra-shiny today. They had chattered on the transport ride, and Kirk felt virtuous, like he was finally doing things right. The sun sparkled occasionally through the clouds. It did so at exactly the right time; when the wind picked up and things seemed about to turn chilly, the cover would shift, and sunlight would stream down on their bare arms. As soon as beads of sweat started to form, _woosh—_the clouds were back, just like things were planned.

This was the smoothest start yet. Kirk couldn't believe he was in the _Enterprise_, piloting, but he was; the announcer had just called start and he was weaving between vehicles, a big, stupid grin on his face and his jacket buttoned tight. It seemed like a few moments ago he'd bounced out of bed. Funny how time worked. Then a hover called the _Abdiel_ whipped in front of him and he swerved, adrenaline stabbing through his arms. Okay. Never mind. This was real.

The _Narada_ loomed. Kirk wasn't worried. The _Narada_ always loomed. As usual, he wished he could see inside it. Instead it just looked like a vehicle for tentacle rape. _Unpleasant_. It was a few places behind him. There were only fifteen hovers left, so a few places meant a lot. Kirk was currently in fifth, and six hovers would advance. Kirk hoped desperately that the _Narada_ would not be continuing to the final stage.

For the first time, Kirk didn't do anything risky. He sat still, hands hard on the controls, watching the _Narada_, keeping solidly in fifth place.

Spock, back at observation, eyed the screen.

"I am going to meet James at the finish," he said after a while. "I am slightly concerned about his mental state."

"Why? Because he's not trying to destroy everything?" said Bones. "Alright, that's valid. Need any company?"

"Should you wish to come…" said Spock unhappily. Bones grinned.

"Do it yourself. We'll be out when he finishes. I'm sure something'll happen at the end. Always does."

"Precisely the reason I would prefer to watch the finish from the actual sidelines," said Spock.

Kirk had to fend off a few comers and was in fourth near the end of the race. He watched the _Narada_ creep up to fifth, then seem to strike. It cut off two hovers, nearly causing a crash, and claimed third place, just in front of the _Enterprise_. Kirk backed off quickly, happy to allow the _Narada_ one higher place rather than antagonize it. Although if their hovers were equipped with photon torpedoes he would have been just as happy to blow the shit out of it instead.

The _Narada_ stayed there, in third. Kirk watched, Kirk waited, but the black ship made no move.

They crossed the finish, the _Narada_ in third and the _Enterprise_ in fourth.

Kirk placed his thumb gently on the brake as he flew across the line, and the _Enterprise _exploded.

x

Spock watched, Spock waited. Spock's communicator trilled.

"Hello?" he said. The _Enterprise_ crossed the finish line in fourth, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"This is for you," said a husky, familiar voice, and the line went dead. Spock was paralyzed by confusion for a second, at least until the _Enterprise_ burst into flames.

x

_Fire._

Kirk hated fire. And all of a sudden, it was his whole world. The _Enterprise_'s coolant system tried to put out the flames, but they were too copious. Fueled by the now-raging hydrogen, the inferno spread across the entire hover from its spark at the base of the magnet. The hover burned.

It was almost impossible to activate the emergency flame retardant, but he managed it. His gloves were smoldering bits as he fumbled, screaming, for the right switch. The coolant system collapsed in upon itself. The _Enterprise_ came to a fiery halt far into the finish area, but the flame retardant activated, and Kirk felt a long moment of coolness as the colorless spray soaked his clothes, putting out most of the fires that were on him.

Kirk didn't know how he did it. He couldn't touch anything. The heat was so intense he didn't even feel pain, just a sense of darkness around the edges of his mind. It was suffocating him, the heat and the chemical fumes. The metal of the _Enterprise_'s cockpit was red-hot, but he had to get out. He couldn't wait for it to collapse; the fire would grow. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't do anything.

For a moment, he glanced sideways, into that darkness at the edge of his vision. He'd seen it before. He knew it well. He'd tried to reach it once, and he stared into it all the time. But he'd been doing less and less of that recently. The darkness gaped, but he looked away, into the heart of the flame.

He gathered everything he had and leapt, and tumbled out into the cool air through a curtain of flame, landing on his hands and knees.

Distantly, he heard sirens. His ears were still filled with the roaring of the flames, but now they were off to his right side, not all around him. He ached everywhere. His hands were so full of rawness that he couldn't lean on them. He collapsed onto his chest, rolling to his side to stare at the burning _Enterprise_. The blackness was coming back, but it was a different kind of blackness—the gentler version that brought sleep and healing. Kirk shoved it away as best he could and tried to sit up. Strong arms helped him.

Spock's eyes were whiter than Kirk had ever seen them. His chest heaved. He reached around Kirk, touching all of Kirk's burned body with his hot skin, and even his Vulcan flesh made the burns feel cool. Kirk coughed once, twice, his body twisting.

"I thought you were dead," Spock gasped. "I thought—" He made a noise and buried his face in Kirk's hair. "Jim—"

"I'm fine, I'm—I'm not dead, Spock, I'm not dead, I'm okay—"

Looming over Kirk, painted against the sky, Spock was wild. He moved forwards and took Kirk's unburned face in his hands, his pupils blown, hair leaping in great tufts. Kirk thought Spock was going to kiss him. Instead, Spock pressed his lips hard against Kirk's forehead, then tugged Kirk to him, hugging him tightly, as if Kirk were life itself.

"Jim," Spock said into Kirk's ear. "_Oh_. Jim."

Jim gulped down any number of feelings and pains and fears, and clutched Spock back.


	39. Chapter 39: Return of the Archons

**A/N: **Six days between updates! Crazysauce.

You will think, reading the first part of this chapter, "Ohshit, did I skip a chapter?" No. You didn't. You'll see.

(Don't forget to Google "Cannae.")

For Nina, who is going to kick ass on her finals today.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Thirty-Nine: Return of the Archons_

x

Actions lie louder than words.

—Carolyn Wells

x

Kirk watched the cop reach for the communicator. Any number of wild ideas spun through his head. He could whip around and front-chop the cop holding his arms. Kick her in the ankle. Smash her jaw with a headbutt. Or maybe, a distraction instead—a faked reaction; a shout or a scream.

Instead he twisted a little in the cop's grip, so that his wrists wouldn't hurt as much, and watched as the other cop dialed.

"Winona Lawrence? You're the guardian of James Tiberius Kirk? This is the San Francisco Police Department, Officer Hao speaking…"

x

Kirk had never been arrested in San Francisco before. It was kinda fun, if he ignored the core of ice glowing uncomfortably in his stomach. The jails were much larger here than in Riverside, and the walls were covered in really interesting graffiti. Also, the inmates were ten times more intriguing. Kirk was tossed into the minor's cell. An eight-foot tall Klingon wiped blood out of her eyes so that she could glare at him better. Kirk tried not to gulp.

"Your mom's gonna be here soon, but I'm sure the paperwork will take a while," growled Officer Hao, who held a grudge against him. Evidently it didn't do to make cops run. "Kal'ayan, don't beat him up too badly."

The Klingon nodded grimly and popped her knuckles.

"See you in a few, Mr. Kirk," grinned Officer Hao, activating the field.

Fuck, thought Kirk. This very not good.

He looked around the cell. The Klingon was taking up an entire bench, but nobody was arguing with her, which was understandable. The other humans were crowded into a corner, avoiding both the Klingon and another female in the cell: a Romulan, with curly blonde hair and very black eyes.

"Kirk?" she said.

Kirk frowned at her. She was vaguely familiar.

The Romulan stood up, smoothing out her dress. She had pale skin and small, dark tattoos along the bones of her face. She was incredibly elegant.

"Mandana," she said, proffering her small hand sweetly. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Kirk took it blankly. Mandana had a strong grip. He tried not to seem afraid, or worried. It was just that he didn't expect to see her, not after what had happened.

"What are you doing here?" Kirk said hesitantly.

"Funny you should ask," Mandana said, smiling in a way that made it clear she didn't think it was funny at all. "Remember how I was implicated in the alleged Pride High plot to cheat at last year's state UIL? Well," she fluffed her skirt and walked a circle around Kirk, showing her teeth, which were, oh dear, quite sharp, "the board decided that, in light of my past record—which I will be the first to admit is not… unstained… that I should do community service."

Mandana paused to inspect her perfect nails. "I don't like community service, Kirk. So they told me that if I didn't want do to my community service, I had to spend a total of forty days in jail."

"You're very stubborn."

"You could call it that." Mandana smiled again. Kirk wished she would stop. "So what are you in for?" She gave a sharp laugh. "It's fun saying that."

"Oh, you know, public intoxication," said Kirk, scratching his neck uncomfortably.

"You seem fine."

"Well, they gave me an injection. Also, it's been a while."

"An injection, huh? Anti-alcohol hypospray?"

Kirk didn't like to lie, but this was Mandana he was talking to. "Yeah."

There were footsteps in the passage. "Kirk," said an officer, sticking her head into the room. Kirk went over to the magnetized bars. "You've got a visitor," she said. "Go to the door and I'll buzz you in." She nodded to a piece of wall that looked a little more metallic than the rest.

Avoiding Mandana, who was watching him, Kirk headed for the door. "I get visitors?" he said.

"Yeah, as many as you want during your first time." The cop grinned. She had extremely white teeth. "Actually, we're just not busy right now, so why not?" There was a faint metallic sound and the door slid open.

Kirk walked into the room. It was only a few feet wide and deep. There was a chair in front of a pane of glass.

On the other side of the glass was Spock.

Kirk froze.

"Jim," said Spock, clasping his hands in front of his stomach. "We need to talk."

x

They held each other for a long, long time.

The _Enterprise_ burned behind them. Spock glanced around a few times to make sure that Romulans weren't sneaking up on them, or that the fire wasn't creeping towards other cars. But mostly he held Kirk, whose flesh crackled under his hands.

After a while (it was only a few minutes, but it seemed like longer), the track fire crew showed up and put out the _Enterprise_. Then the ambulance came and Spock had to let go of Kirk, which was easier than he thought it would be because Kirk had fainted in his arms and Spock hadn't even realized, since he'd been holding Kirk so closely that he couldn't see Kirk's face. The paramedic let him in the ambulance (mainly, though Spock didn't know it, because of the expression on his face), and they left for the hospital, lights screaming.

He forgot completely about telling the hoverclub what had happened and missed about ninety calls from them as he watched the paramedics run the same machines and medicines over Kirk's skin that they had over his own, when his back had been burned after his mother—Spock shook his head. After homecoming last year. The paramedics worked in surprising silence, stripping Kirk down to his ashy skin and moving scanner methodically across him.

At the hospital, after the paperwork nurse asked for Kirk's information and after Kirk looked more peach than steak, Spock remembered that he should tell people what was going on, so—navigating past exactly 93 missed calls—he phoned Uhura.

Which was, at that point, his wisest move, because Uhura was the calm one. Of course, that meant she was only screaming a little.

"WHY THE _FUCK_," she shrieked, "IS THE _ENTERPRISE_ A SMOLDERING HEAP OF SCRAP METAL RIGHT NOW? _IS JIM ALIVE?_"

"Yes," said Spock, trying to speak soothingly. "We are at the hospital. I realize, in hindsight, that I should have contacted you immediately—"

"YOU _FUCKING _THINK?"

"I apolog—"

"THAT WILL COME LATER, I ASSURE YOU. WHAT THE _FUCK_ HAPPENED."

Spock explained as best he could. Uhura had to stop him periodically to tell the others (who were also making lots of shocked noises—this was an understatement, to be clear) what Spock was saying. Eventually they had everything almost straight.

"Is Nero still there?" Spock asked.

"They packed up," said Uhura shortly. "We have exactly no proof that it was them. _Again_. We—"

There was a noise, and Spock heard extra voices, one very high. Uhura went quiet. "Nyota?" Spock said.

"Wait a sec—"

The voices kept going. Spock strained to hear them, but there was so much background noise that it was impossible.

After a while Uhura said, "You're not going to believe this. They found casings from a micro-explosive. And it has Romulan script on it. I've got to go; they're questioning all of us. And they're sending a police officer up to you, so don't leave."

And she hung up.

Spock stared at his communicator for a long time, then went back inside to see about Kirk.

x

Seven hours later, Spock and Kirk were standing outside of a hospital in downtown Long Beach, feeling completely run through the mill.

"Can you believe it?" said Kirk, stuffing the last few medications the doctor had given him into his hospital bed. "A _standoff?_ And then—"

"I do not want to talk about it," said Spock sharply.

"Alright," said Kirk, grinning improbably. "But hey, you gotta admit, as soon as they capture him—I mean, this was very incriminating."

_Very_ incriminating. The police had gone to Nero's house and encountered a phaser bank trained on their transport. No lives were lost, but the standoff had lasted for five hours before Nero and his compatriots had been beamed away.

"I can't believe it," Kirk went on. "Like that. They're gone. Without any—I don't know, any kind of runup, or preamble—"

"I would say that blowing up the _Enterprise_ was plenty of runup," said Spock, rather coldly.

"Do you think they'll resurface?" said Kirk. "I mean, all of this had to happen for a reason."

"How illogical of you," said Spock. "To think that things happen for a reason." His shoulders shook, as if he were laughing. "Why _would_ you say that, Jim?"

Kirk bit back a smile, which he had been doing since Spock had started calling him "Jim" instead of "James." "Because—come on. People don't just attack other people for no reason. He had to have been trying to kill me for some purpose we don't understand yet."

"Or maybe," said Spock, as if Kirk were slow, "Nero is simply insane."

"Well, he's not logical," said Kirk, grinning a bit. "But who is, right?"

Spock apparently didn't get the joke. "Quite," he murmured. "I assume that Nero is mad. This is the only way that his actions make sense."

"Oh, come on," said Kirk impatiently. "Give the guy some credit."

"I will not," said Spock strongly. "He has done nothing subtly. When he killed my mother, he left glaring traces of arson. When he has tried to kill both of us, it has not been elegantly. When he attempted to push me from the balcony at Scotty's house last summer, it was after he had provoked a physical fight." Kirk tried to ask about that, but Spock went on. "When Ayel tried to shoot me, after the first race, with a phaser, you were able to disarm him easily. And just now—you escaped the explosion. Not enough firepower was used. An amateur mistake."

"But he was trying to _kill_ us," said Kirk. "No matter how bad he was at it, he was attempting murder. He had to have been trying to do that for a reason!"

"I think that Nero's actions are not premeditated. They are premeditated only in the sense that he wants us dead, presumably because of our parents. But nothing he has done has proven his mental stability."

"Listen, just because we don't know—"

"Think about his actions. On Romulus, he hired an assassin to kill his adoptive parents, but ultimately did the job for her. Does _that_ make sense?"

"He's part of a big movement, Spock. The Rihanh, remember? They're organized. They've probably got a plan."

"If they do, then he is not accomplishing it. Why would they keep him on?"

"He's Rihanh royalty. They disbanded after his parents died, and they started back up because of him." Kirk snapped his fingers. "Hey, maybe that's it—Nero is the leader!"

Spock actually scoffed. "Nero? The leader? Of a dangerous nationalist organization that had Section 31 concerned? I highly doubt it."

"But like I said, they disbanded after his parents died and started back up because of him."

"Meaning that they now have a figurehead. I am sure that during the years in which they were disbanded, they were not inactive."

"You think? Special Services was pretty sure that they were over."

"Special Services does not know everything," said Spock darkly.

Kirk felt a thrill of fear. "What makes you say that?"

"They do not have the information that could successfully capture Nero," snapped Spock. "What did you think I was talking about?" He glared at Kirk, who struggled to keep his face calm. Spock's own expression changed. "Jim, did you—"

"Just for a second," said Kirk, blushing and looking away.

"Jim," said Spock softly. "I am not involved with the Rihanh. How could I be? Nero _killed my mother_."

"I'm not saying it was a logical fear," hissed Kirk. "And I feel really fucking bad about it, okay? Just—shut up for a second."

To Kirk's surprise, Spock went quiet.

"I'm sorry," said Kirk after a while.

"It is perfectly fine," said Spock. "It is not as if I have not suspected you." Kirk stared at him, and Spock did that maddening thing where he almost smiled. "Again, it was 'just for a second.'"

At which point the transport, piloted by Pike, pulled up, and fourteen hands reached out to pull them inside.

x

The ride home was less terrifying than Spock had expected it to be. Everybody was nice to Kirk since nobody reasonable could blame him for what had happened (so, of course, Bones lectured him for a while), but only Uhura would speak to Spock. He was still in the doghouse for not immediately informing them of what had happened.

Spock felt this was quite reasonable. He wouldn't have spoken to any member of the hoverclub who held back this information, so he spent the ride staring quite happily at the back of Kirk's head as Kirk talked with the team members.

x

Kirk was riding his motorcycle home from the school when something snapped.

He'd been completely fine until now. He hadn't suspected that anything was wrong. His skin was doing well, he didn't hurt, he wasn't worried. But he realized, out of exactly nowhere, that there had been a moment back at the hospital when a doctor with red hair had leaned over him, and Kirk had had had a strong, clear sense of déjà vu—mixed with memory. He saw the doctor's gloved hand reaching towards his arm and inserting hypospray into the crook of his neck, and for a moment, the doctor's entire lab coat was stained with blood—not Kirk's blood.

Kirk gasped and swerved.

It was darker in the first hospital room. He hurt more. He was nothing but a shiver of spirit. The doctors were streaming around him. His mother was nowhere, Sam was nowhere. He was all alone and just the red-haired doctor was there to touch his cheek sweetly, between pushing hyposprays into him.

The image flickered. The doctor from today was taller, swarthier; his red hair was less red. Their lab coats flashed in front of his eyes. One, outlined by matte hospital lights, covered in blood, strong in the midst of chaos. The other, a flat image, one doctor of many, his coat bleached crisp.

Kirk made a noise. The wheel slipped, and he skidded along the road for a moment, the magnetized rails tugging to halt his course. Robotic arms snapped out of the ground and made grooves around his tires, and he righted himself, and kept going.

He missed his turn. He kept driving.

He was breathing hard. The images kept coming. It was all blood, blood like there had been fire. Blood boiling around him—he swerved into another lane, the magnets reaching after him to correct him. Boiling, like flames. He felt sick. He felt like his head was tugging itself apart.

He made it to the right house, a rundown duplex in the northern Sunset District. He went inside, trying not to tremble, and came out with a packet of birch.

He drove straight to a club and took all three tabs in the restroom.

x

Gaila may have been an Orion, but she knew something about Terran communication systems. One of her first acts upon arriving to Earth was to set up a gossip network. So, an hour later, beginning a night that none of those involved would ever forget, she texted Uhura, saying, "So you're back?"

Uhura was hanging out with Scotty when she got it. "Yeah," she replied. "Why?"

"I heard through the grapevine that Jim Kirk was getting seriously wasted at a club in the Avenues—I was surprised. Wasn't there, like, an explosion?"

Uhura typed furiously, "Yeah, a really bad one and Jim got burnt—I'm going to call him."

Uhura didn't get an answer the first three times. She gave up for a while, not thinking it was a big deal. Then she texted him. "Jim—what's up?"

"Clearin' the sharp, Nyota," he replied after a while.

Nyota went cold.

x

"Ah don't know if tha's a good idea," said Scotty, his hand light on Uhura's arm. "If yeh consider what yeh know—"

"Then I get worried," snapped Uhura. "I'm calling, okay? I can't let Bones deal with this, and I don't want you to come because you don't know him as well as—Spock! Hey."

"Greetings," said Spock cautiously. "I assume you are aware of the time, Nyota?"

"Yeah," said Uhura, glancing at a clock. "Sorry. It's—well, it's about Jim."

Spock tried not to perk up obviously. "Yes?" he said coolly.

Uhura wasn't fooled. "Listen, remember when he broke up with Leo? There was that bad incident at the club? With the birch?"

_Methylphenylpropanimine_, thought Spock. "Yes," he said—an entirely different "yes" than the last he'd spoken.

"Well, I think he's on it again… Did something happen today?"

"Other than the explosion?" said Spock dryly. He sat up in bed and snapped for the lights.

"Smartass. I'm going to get him. You're in?"

"Of course," said Spock, wrestling some pants on. "Where is he?"

"Gaila says this club in the Avenues—Cannae."

"_Cannae_?"

"Yeah. I'll pick you up."

"I will see you shortly," said Spock.

x

The ride was conducted in relative silence. Spock was busy worrying about the connotations of the club's name and Uhura was busy voice-messaging Gaila, When they reached Cannae, ten minutes later, Uhura took Spock's arm.

"You haven't seen him like this," she said. "He may be fine—well, not fine, but nothing we need to worry about. Last time, he wasn't incredibly bad—he was really lucid. But if he's not, get him outside and call me. If he seems okay, get me—or I'll get you, if I find him—and we'll see if we need to do anything."

Spock nodded in agreement. Uhura, surprisingly, hugged him, then took his hand and pulled him inside.

Spock had never been to a club before. This was not the ideal situation in which to lose one's club-virginity, but it was the best Spock had at the moment. He waded through the people, losing Uhura immediately when she pointed, yelling something he couldn't hear, and went right, leaving him to go left. There were people everywhere in nearly nothing, with Sahora paint all over their bodies and _sanik_ spikes in their ears. They jangled their thin bracelets and their bodies and Spock was, for a wild second, entranced by the scene—the wildness, the abandon of it.

Time moved strangely. Spock didn't know how long it had been when he saw Uhura, scooting between two six-foot tall girls. She shook her head, and he shook his. They went opposite directions again.

His legs were starting to feel numb when somebody wrapped their arms around his neck.

He jumped a little and turned, and sure enough, the owner of the arms was Kirk, who looked a hundred times more normal than the other people at the club, and by virtue of that, totally out of place and more than a little crazy.

His pupils were huge, Spock saw as a light flashed across them. Kirk blinked, his lids slow-moving. He put his forehead on Spock's shoulder and held him. Spock was touched for a moment. Then he realized that Kirk couldn't stand up straight without assistance.

Spock didn't even try to speak. He draped Kirk's arm around his shoulder and made his way slowly through the people. He realized, by the time he reached a wall, that he'd gone the opposite direction of the entrance. Luckily there was a back lounge, which Spock quickly paid the cover for. He propped Kirk in one of the chairs and sent a message to Uhura.

When he looked up from his communicator, he saw that Kirk was slumped over the chair's arm, his eyes half-shut and his mouth half-open. Spock panicked for a moment: Kirk looked dead. But then Kirk blinked and shifted, the tip of his tongue darting out to touch his lips.

Spock had no idea what to do. He moved his own chair closer to Kirk's and shook him.

"No," said Kirk, very clearly.

"Jim, it is me, Spock," said Spock. "Please—wake up. Sit up."

"your shores area too pretty," Kirk slurred. "ijstuut want tosatare ta them. pleasespock. jstlook ign makes thingasdoso muchbeter. canimagne, that wayw aht thins woud be like f iwre oaky and didnt ahvethe sharp harngning over em."

Spock barely understood. Kirk's speech was completely unclear. He had said something about Spock's shoes, and imagining that things were better, but beyond that, Spock wasn't sure. He stroked Kirk's cheek without any hesitation, feeling the roughness of his jaw.

"Jim," said Spock, his voice tiny. "Stop this. Stop. Please."

Kirk blinked.

"I—you cannot do this," Spock continued. "Jim, I care about you too much to let you—"

"You care about me?" Kirk projected, sitting up unexpectedly and staring Spock right in the eye. "You care? Then you are th' _first_, that is what you are. Because nobody fucking else has ever, and it is getting tough to do this on my own, okay."

"Jim, of course I care—"

Kirk bit out a harsh laugh. Another light flared across his eyes, and Spock was alarmed to see how cloudy they were. "Caring is _stupid_," snarled Kirk, and to Spock's alarm, he stood, legs locked in place. "You're stupid and I don't like you. The sharp is—it takes care of all of that, and it makes everything go, and you have to—" He turned away and started stumbling towards the door to the club. "I listen! I am doing so well, aren't I, I mean, you like me and shit, so'at's good. But then I get this little thing and boom! Sharp back. Bonus blood. Great. Real fun."

Spock tried to grab his arm but Kirk shoved him easily off—Spock wasn't expecting it, and Kirk, holding onto the wall, had more pushing power. "Don't follow me!" he shouted, and disappeared into the crowd.

Spock plunged in after him.

For a long while, all of Spock's existence consisted of glowing skin and a bass beat that pumped his heart for him, of flashing teeth and splashing drinks and sharp elbows in his side, and the ever-retreating back of James Kirk, always just out of reach. By the time Spock realized that the air was cool, now, on his prickling flesh, and the blackness he saw was created by the hollow dome of the galaxy, not the flat tiles of the club, Kirk was moving away, his limbs responding sluggishly.

Spock, totally out of breath, had to stop for air. He took in a big, cool lungful, then let it out with noise attached: "JIM!" he yelled, so loudly that a car blocks away flashed its brake lights.

To Spock's huge surprise, Kirk came to a complete stop. But then Kirk whirled around with more agility than Spock expected from him. "_What_," Kirk said back, his voice a hiss.

In that moment, Kirk's anger and the chaos of the club and the events of the day filled up Spock's throat, and all of his anxiety and anger and concern came screaming out of him.

"WHY?" Spock roared. "Jim, _why_? Why are you _doing_ this? I have problems—_Ta'lak_ knows, I have problems. What do you have? I would never do this, Jim—"

"_Bull_shit," Kirk screamed back. "You killed yourself! You tried! That's fuckin' _something_. You're fucked up too, Spock, but you keep it the fuck back and shit like this happens—"

"Shit like _this_?" Spock gasped in reply. "_You_, Jim, are the one that took _drugs_ and—and you have sex with everything that moves, and _you_ say to _me _that _I_ am repressed—"

"YOU ARE," Kirk yelled.

"No," snarled Spock. "You do this to yourself, and—people care about you, and you do this anyway."

"They don't give a shit. Nobody does."

"You're wrong," said Spock, leveling his pointer at Kirk. "Your mother cares. Your brother. Bones. Nyota. Scotty. All of our friends. Pike. You're betraying them."

The gusto had gone out of Kirk. He stood there, staring at Spock, his eyes huge and hollow, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He raised his hands, slow as a glacier, to his head.

"The sharp," he said, never taking his eyes from Spock's. "_Spock_. None of it matters."

"I matter," said Spock, in a tiny voice.

There was a huge, ringing silence.

Kirk opened his mouth once. Twice. He passed his hand over his eyes. He looked at Spock, his lips imploring. Spock reached out his hand. They were far away, but all of a sudden the distance did not seem so great.

"I want to tell you," said Kirk.

There was a noise like a DJ stand falling down. A police car had flicked its sirens, and before Spock could so much as consider a reply, two cops were striding over to them.

Spock started to move towards them, though he didn't know what to say. But Kirk, like a wounded animal, backed away, snarling, then turned his back and dashed away.

x

_The next chapter is the one you've been waiting for. Want it soon? Leave a review._


	40. Chapter 40: All Our Yesterdays

**A/N:** Warning for violence.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Forty: All Our Yesterdays_

x

Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make ye free.

—John 8:32

x

When James Kirk was thirteen, his stepfather hit him one last time.

It was the last time because Winona was through with him. The relationship was over. Frank and Winona screamed at each other for two hours in the middle of the shining afternoon, stalking around the house and slamming doors and yelling up and down stairs, faces red with incandescent rage.

Kirk didn't hide. He had never been a _hiding_ type of kid. He was a _beating the shit out of innocent objects_ type of kid. He sat in the dirt off the back porch and methodically destroyed an old tire with a butcher's knife he'd found while he and Sam were excavating a few years ago. (He had wanted to be an archaeologist for a long time, until one of his teachers told him he was no good at geology. He stopped digging, after that.)

After Frank left, Winona came outside and put her hands on her hips. Her blonde hair flickered in wisps around her face, like bunches of ivy fluttering in the wind. She was an iron woman, a solid force, and the lines of expression carved into her face made her look like an old statue, gnarled and smoothed by time.

Kirk had moved to the upper branches of a post oak tree and was stripping the branch he was seated on of bark. Winona relaxed, the steel going out of her, and leaned against the screen door. For a while, she watched the dust thrown up by Frank's transport fade away, falling back into the ground.

She glanced into the tree, but didn't say anything. Kirk didn't look at her. He kept tearing the bark off.

Winona went back inside and poured herself a drink.

Kirk didn't come inside until midnight. He woke up early the next day and went down to the creek. He fished some, and listened to the sky, and sure enough, by lunchtime, Frank was back.

In the stream, a few minnows tarried skittishly in the shallows, wondering if he had any more tasty scraps of bread. The larger perch and bass remained in the deep water, entirely skeptical of Kirk's intentions. He'd run out of leftovers and worms a long time ago. He tossed a few grasshoppers halfheartedly into the water. He looked into the sky, at the clouds. They moved quickly across the sky, miles and miles away. In Riverside, the air was still.

He didn't know he'd fallen asleep until he woke up. Winona was bending over him, a soft smile on her lips and the sun haloing her flicking hair. "You missed lunch," she said, touching his cheek. "Come on, I made dinner."

"Oh," said Kirk, scrambling up. He felt himself smiling too, for some reason. "What'd you make?"

Winona laughed. Her arms were crossed and relaxed into a soldiers' ready stance: feet squared, spine straight, neck loose. "I baked a chicken. And broccoli and kha'di. And iced tea."

"Dessert?" He tried to stand like she did. She looked taller than he remembered seeing her. Rare pride arched through him.

She grinned. "Went to the store. Blue Bell, vanilla."

Kirk whistled. "Mom!"

She laughed. "I know! We can afford it." She was beaming, now. "Jim, I finally got a promotion! They just let me know, right before I went to the store—I mean, that's why I went to the store. They want me to head up a mechanics shop."

"Wow!" said Kirk. The happiness in her eyes was contagious. "That's amazing! In Riverside? At the shipyard?"

Winona grinned. She reached out to tousle his hair.

"No, honey. On Sanger, in the Beta Quadrant. They want me right away. I'm leaving in a week."

Kirk would never, ever forget that feeling. It was like coming out of a hurricane, only to realize that you were in the calm of the eye, and the far wall was fast approaching.

x

Uhura didn't have a chance to be pissed.

She had searched the club top to bottom when she realized that she had missed a text from Spock. She had just started to read it when Spock called her.

"It is a long story," he said, out of breath. "Come outside."

Uhura beat her way through the crowd and, like Spock, had been in the moonlight for a while before she realized she was there. She took a long drink of air. Her clothes felt too tight. She tugged at the collar of her shirt, tilting her head to catch the breeze on her damp neck. She didn't feel much, except for a small, insistent_ tap-tap-tap_ of irritation mixed with curiosity.

Spock was leaning against the side of the building, staring at his shoes.

Uhura approached him, concentrating on the way she walked. "What happened?" she said, a little more harshly than she intended.

"Jim fled," said Spock tonelessly, looking out across the street. The streetlights bounced out of his eyes.

"That implies he's running from something," said Uhura, going to stand next to him. Every muscle in her had started humming. She was keyed up and she wanted to do something, but she was going to give Spock a chance to explain first.

"Yes," said Spock, barely moving his lips. Uhura felt a surge of anger.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Seriously? That's all you're giving me, here? A 'yes?' Come the fuck on, Spock."

On a human, Spock's expression would have been one of displeasure. Instead, he was cloudier than usual. "Yes, Nyota." His tone was surprisingly hateful.

Well, that was it.

Uhura didn't do violence very often, but this was the perfect opportunity—now she had a chance to be pissed. She took it, feeling anger drive through her like a bolt of lightning. She grabbed Spock's shirt, clenched the soft material of it unlovingly in her fist, and slammed him into the wall. He gasped as she drove the breath out of him.

"What the _fuck._ Is up with you two?" she said, her voice perfectly level and poisonous. "You seem fine half the damn time, and then you do completely crazy shit. _Both_ of you. You, Spock—you're here one day, gone the next. There is something seriously _wrong_ with you!"

"You somehow feel the need to express this to _me?_"

"Yes," said Uhura coldly. "I do. Because sometimes I don't think you're aware of it. If you're going to try to be the main character here, you have to act a little more self-aware."

She released his shirt unexpectedly, and he stumbled as he fell away from the wall. She took a few steps backwards, breathing through her nostrils.

"Listen," she said, pointing an unquavering finger at him. "Fix this. Stop _fucking_ around. You've been avoiding the real parts of life for too long, Spock. Go find out what the fuck is up with Jim and maybe it'll help you find out what the fuck is up with you."

Spock stared at her.

"You got that?" she hissed.

"Yes," he said, straightening. "Yes."

x

Half an hour after Spock left the police station, Winona Lawrence exploded through the front doors.

The SFPD had dealt with angry mothers for centuries, but this was something rather different. Winona Lawrence was angry for a number of extremely compelling reasons, the very smallest of which was that her son was in jail. She stalked up to the receiving desk and pinned the officer behind it to the wall with her very gaze.

"M-ma'am," he quavered, touching his phaser for reassurance.

"Winona," bit Winona, "Lawrence. I believe—" She articulated this very, very carefully. "—you have my son."

"Er," gulped the receiving officer, tapping with indecent haste at his PADD. "James Ti—"

"Yes," said Winona shortly.

"Right this way, ma'am—"

She swept after him, making damn sure to breathe down his neck. Just because it was Kirk she was mad at didn't mean that she couldn't scare the everloving Lord out of everyone else.

"Kirk, James T.," the officer barked. Kirk, back in the cell (and sitting carefully opposite Mandana), jumped to his feet and hurried over to the force field. He was expecting his mother, but he wasn't expecting her facial expression—or her outfit.

"Hey, m—_oh_," said Kirk, coming to an abrupt halt a few feet from the force field. The receiving officer backed away from Winona slightly: her eyes had narrowed to slits upon seeing her son.

"James," she said, her voice deep, pleasant, and terrifying. "How _are_ you?"

"Oh, you know," whispered Kirk. "So-so."

"Yes," said Winona poisonously. "I'm sure. I'll just be posting bail."

"Thanks."

"Oh, any time, honey."

Both Kirk and the receiving officer gulped. The latter deactivated the force field. Kirk emerged, scraping the side of the wall in an effort to avoid Winona. Winona sparkled threateningly at him.

Winona was sparkling threateningly because of the evening gown she was wearing. It was smooth, pale gold silk that swept down her legs, curling back between her feet to reveal a foamy white underskirt made of Bajoran lace. She was wearing Terellian diamonds, which glowed expensively.

"So uh," said Kirk. "Um, what were you doing this evening, mom?"

The receiving officer hurried down the corridor, trying to put large quantities of distance between the terrifying woman in gold and her very unfortunate son.

"I was at a ball," said Winona, tossing a piece of immaculately curled hair over her thin shoulder.

"That's… that's pretty cool," Kirk hedged. "Where at?"

"Starfleet headquarters."

"Did you go with somebody?"

"Chane Uhura. James, I am taking the bail out of your savings."

"Chane—? Wait, _my_ savings?"

"Of course out of your savings. You got arrested. _Again_. And for—" Winona finally went white with rage. "For being under the influence of illegal substances!"

"Oh, that was in the arrest warrant?" said Kirk weakly.

Winona looked like she was about to hit him. "One count of that, and two of resisting arrest."

"I only resisted arrest once."

"You resisted arrest from two officers."

"Ah." Kirk paused delicately. "That, uh, matters?"

"Yes. I know you've generally been pursued by so many officers, for so many charges, that you don't pay attention to _most_ of those charges, so you weren't aware that the number of police officers that pursue you _matters_."

Kirk nodded modestly. This was true.

In the lobby, the receiving officer took Kirk's credit chip hurriedly and breathed a long sigh of relief when Kirk and Winona left.

x

Winona went out to the Riverside main office that night. Kirk wasn't allowed outside after nightfall—at least, not when Frank was home—so he went to his room. He didn't like having to stay out of the way, but Frank was in a bad mood. Not that he was ever in a good mood.

Kirk didn't get to stay in his room for long. Frank had him come out and clean the kitchen, and he smacked Kirk's ear for no reason Kirk could discern. Frank hit him so hard his ears rang for the next hour.

Frank kept up his usual spew of poison while Kirk was cleaning. "Fucking useless kid. Should have never been born. Died in space, like your daddy. Would have been better. You and your brother. You'll never amount to anything. You cheat in school, kid. You can't even put the meat up properly." _Whack_. "Don't know how you get grades like you do. Probably a slut already. Yeah, at your age. It's a fucking disgrace. Raised by fucking wolves or something. I'll be glad when Winona's gone—you eat too much. Kid like you can do with a meal a day." _Smack_. "Get the fuck out of there. Did I say you could open that cabinet? Stop glaring at me, you idiot. I guess that's all you're good for. Mean looks and shitting. You're useless, kid. You're nothing. You're a speck of fucking dust on somebody's shoe. And here's the _thing_, kid."

The words were like a sharp, sharp knife.

"You deserve every shitty thing that will ever happen to you."

x

Somewhere on the way home, the dynamic shifted.

"Jim," said Winona, when they were standing in the dark house.

"Where're Sam and Aurelan?" said Kirk. He was tired. All he wanted to do was go to sleep.

"I don't know," said Winona. Her eyes were very wide. "Jim."

"I'm going to bed."

He walked off. He was in the doorway to his room when she said it again.

"Jim."

He shut the door softly, like it was a piece of china. He stood in darkness for a moment, then went to his window, opened it, and climbed out of it.

Winona knocked on his door five minutes later with a cup of tea. She came in and saw he was gone. He'd left the window open. She sat the tea down on his nightstand and left.

Her expression never changed.

x

At two o'clock in the morning, Kirk sat on the curb in front of the Vulcan Embassy and thought about moments.

He thought about how the universe was a really big thing, bigger than the biggest big thing you could image, and then some, and how his perception of it was limited to this little tiny itsy-bitsy bit. He looked into the sky. It was big. _It's huge_, he tried to tell his mind. _Larger than I can imagine._ But he didn't believe himself.

He thought about how atoms were really small things, smaller than the smallest thing you could imagine, and then some. He looked at his fingers. There were more than a trillion atoms in his fingers. A _trillion_. He thought about how if you lined up fifty million atoms, they would stretch for barely a centimeter. He couldn't understand how small that was.

He thought about how telling yourself something and believing it are two different things. He wondered how physicists did it. He was pretty good at physics, but he couldn't find a quark in a barrel of fish if you gave him Cal Tech. He knew that physicists had to believe that stuff. They had to know how small atoms were, or how big the universe was. It was their job to believe it.

_Why do physicists want this as their job? Why do they want to dedicate themselves to something that's so hard to understand? _He looked at the sky again and wondered how many atoms he was seeing.

He thought he knew why they wanted to understand when he felt his mind flicker a bit, as if it was going out from him to stand in the field of stars.

He thought: Understanding wasn't math and calculus and differential equations; it wasn't biochemistry, or boiling points, or the atomic weight of every single element. All of their knowledge, everything they learned in school and lecture, every book on math and science—that was the easy part.

Kirk wanted any number of things, and getting them was hard. He wanted to be smart and for everybody to think he was smart. He didn't want care what people thought about him. He wanted to care what people thought about him. He wanted to be loved—by his mother, by his friends, by Spock. He wanted to love them, and that was difficult, because he didn't know what _love_ consisted of. He wanted to be happy; he didn't know what would make him happy. He scratched his head. He also wanted some chocolate.

He thought about how hard it was to be emotional. For the past eight years he had been telling himself how stupid it was to feel certain emotions: fear, panic, anger… and lust, and happiness, and contentment. He'd let the innocent things through, like simple lusts: kissing that girl, fucking that boy. But the deeper things were harder. Deviant behavior. _Being_ fucked. Real intimacy, real emotional connections. The same held true for everything. He could be comfortable, and he could feel moments of joy. But beyond that…. He swallowed. Blankness.

This was the sharp: this mixture of everything he wanted and didn't want, rising and falling like the tide within him. This was the sharp: the cut of the gun.

The tide came in.

He stood up. The world twirled around his head. He walked into the road, unsteady on his legs; the water tugged at his ankles. He looked for transports just in time, and paused—a big black one screamed by, blaring its horn. He jogged across the road, up to the gate of the compound.

He tapped the vidscreen. "Hey? Sorry it's so late. Can I talk to Apartment 24C? Uh, Spock's room."

"I am sorry," said the computer smoothly, "voice access is blocked during these hours."

"But he turned his communicator off," said Kirk, knowing it wouldn't help but feeling the need to bring it up anyway.

"I am sorry, voice access is blocked during these hours."

"This is an emergency," said Kirk firmly.

The computer considered this.

"Name?" it asked finally.

"James Kirk," said Kirk.

"You are on the list," said the computer mysteriously. "I will grant voice access. Standby for override." There was a surprisingly loud _whirr,_ then the sound of a microphone clicking on.

"Spock!" said Kirk loudly. "Dude! It's Jim! Wake up!"

There was nothing for a long time. He was about to say something else when the opposite end was activated.

"Jim," said Spock, sounding both sleepy and pained. "_What_?"

"Can we talk?"

There was another long silence, and then Spock said, "Yes."

x

They walked to a park.

It was cool outside, not cold—surprisingly warm for early February. Kirk's jacket was thin, and it was a little less than enough. There were no twinkling stars; just a heavy overlay of clouds that had appeared while Kirk was talking to the embassy computer.

"When I said we needed to talk, I did not mean tonight," said Spock, almost gently. They were still walking; they weren't to wherever they were going yet.

"Well," said Kirk, unsure how to explain what he had been thinking. "I'm sorry. You don't have to—"

"Of course I do," said Spock, touching Kirk's forearm.

Kirk put his head down and kept walking.

The park was hill and valley, lined by cedar and cypress trees, brown-gray and skeletal, but with hints of lime in nudging buds. The grass was well-mown and rustled, coolly, giving way to sweet brown earth on the walking paths.

"Why don't I tell you," said Kirk.

x

"I deserve this," said Kirk.

He'd always been good at taking pills. One time, he'd had a bad intestinal infection, and the doctor had given Winona these gigantic horse pills for him to take. Hyposprays weren't good for everything—especially not self-medicating—and Winona had been concerned, at first, that her baby boy wouldn't swallow the capsules. But he'd gulped them down unconcernedly.

These pills were different. They were small, purple painkillers. He lined them up, twelve piles of ten, and drank each pile with a long gulp of water from a frosted glass.

Automatic movement. He moved through the process and finished, and went to lie on his bed.

There wasn't anything.

At some point, Winona came in, and something happened—she found out somehow. Kirk didn't remember much, because there still wasn't anything. (That was the point.) He had a fleeting memory of horrifying warmth in his throat, and throwing up for a moment that felt like days, and of a hospital transport, and of a surprisingly clear few seconds in which a beautiful nurse with skin the color of rich chocolate gently placed an IV under his skin, and being taken aback by how painless it all was.

He remembered a lot of flickering light, and voices, braided into the silence, and staring at a clock tick through two hours, from four AM to six AM, second by second by second by second. He remembered a police officer, but not clearly—he thought he might only remember that because he knew that the police officer was there, from hearing the officer's testimony in court.

The first really firm memory he had was of a spider the size of his thumbnail crawling all the way from the foot of his biobed up to his level, where it perched in the exact center of his chest for a long, long time. Finally it skittered off to the side, and, he assumed, crawled away.

He remembered that the angle of the sunlight through the window was exactly forty-five degrees, and he remembered that the beige tiles had a pattern in their dark flecks.

After howeverlong, the haze lifted, and the air grew heavy again, but the change was this: he heard whispers, brought in on eddies of wind from the hospital halls, about _separation_ and _abuse_ and _jail_.

But there still wasn't anything.

x

In the park, the expression on Spock's face was forcibly calm.

"He physically and verbally abused you for years," said Spock. "And so you tried to kill yourself."

Kirk didn't think he had ever actually heard it summed up. He nodded.

Spock laced his fingers together in front of his face. "This happened when you were thirteen."

"Yes. They started dating when I was nine."

The wind was colder now, and Kirk shivered. The sharp was pulsing inside of him, scraping at his ribs and stomach. Spock seemed very, very far away, and for a long, pure moment, Kirk was afraid, so afraid, that things were going to change horribly between them. Spock was going to be understanding and look him in the eye and they were going to laugh and see the radiant veils of lies slide back to reveal the grimy truth, and it was going to be too much to bear, and Kirk would never be able to sit near him again like this, and watch the veins in Spock's eyelids pulse. He would never be able to put his head on Spock's shoulder or kiss the paper-thin skin on Spock's neck.

Spock's black, black eyes gave him no clues.

Kirk didn't know it, but his mind was making connections that would allow him to continue his tale. Kirk hadn't trusted anybody since he was thirteen, and now, four years later, he had a chance to give his whole being over to another person. He'd had that chance before but had never taken it.

Even though his eyes were dark, Kirk knew like breathing that Spock wouldn't go away.

He considered having an epiphany, but he wasn't sure what it would be about, or how much good it would do him, so he said, "I haven't told you all of it," and Spock said back, "Yes. I know."

Spock got up, unfolding like a mystery, and came to sit next to Kirk, the sides of his hot upper arm and leg pressed against Kirk's.

"I am here," said Spock. "I am here."

x

The judge said, "Thirty to one hundred years," and that should have been it.

But it wasn't. It never was.

Winona changed completely. She took three consecutive demotions and became a second-level mechanic at the Riverside shipyard. She never took her eyes off of Kirk again. The men she dated were few and far between, and she vetted them thoroughly. Kirk only ever met two of them, and he liked them well enough, but nobody was up to Winona's standards anymore.

Kirk changed too. He shattered that night, and the glue the hospital administrators and psychologists plied on him never took.

He only did well in school because he was crazy—or, that's what he told Winona. Kirk had a weird streak in him that was a mile longer than his stupid one. So he never skipped school (unless it wouldn't hurt his grade). He was arrested four times before he was seventeen, and effectively went off the deep end, but he was first in his class, and it puzzled the hell out of his teachers and counselors. But of course, Kirk never let other people worry him.

In the intervening years, Kirk would wonder where he was going, what he was doing, why he was doing it—and he would never know. Before, he had been so rational, so in control. But now there was nothing holding him back. He had survived death, and he was newly indestructible—but he had no will to live.

He didn't realize how much he liked being alive until the chance to die was once more bluntly presented to him.

On the night of April 8th, just after Hydra had risen in the Western hemisphere, Franklin Sandford, with twenty-seven years until parole left on his sentence, escaped from jail.

He broke into a nearby house and stole three antique firearms, new clothing, and the household car. Edmonton Low-Security Penitentiary was seventy miles from Riverside. In an hour, Frank was standing outside the Lawrence residence.

He heaved a chair through the downstairs window. Winona Lawrence, who came, phaser blazing, out of the kitchen, he shot twice in the leg and once in the face.

He went upstairs.

Later Kirk will think that he has been saving all of the fear in his life for that one moment. He has never been afraid before, and he will never be afraid again. But when Kirk sees Frank in the doorway, it isn't fear that takes him: it is something so basic and plain that it is a sheet of solid, gaping color draped over his every sense.

Later Kirk will think that he could have struggled harder. Frank isn't young and spry like Kirk. But he is big and powerful, Kirk's litheness can't save him. Frank shoots Kirk four times, in the arms and legs, before Kirk stops struggling. The bones in his shoulder, wrist, and both knees shattered almost completely, Kirk can only close his eyes.

x

Rape is all of the pain and uncertainty in the world balled up into a whisper that echoes forever in the dark places in your head. It is thin, jagged splinters of glass that can never be plucked from your flesh. It is a miasma of clouds fogging every sunny day. It is bruises and havoc, and it smells like sewer and blood. It is a symphony of chaos, screaming like a pair of lungs with a burning brand thrust through them.

Rape is a living thing, and it is the edge of a sharp, sharp knife that never leaves your skin.

x

Kirk tells Spock all he can remember, because he never has, and it's been welling up inside like a rotting corpse. It's poison that comes spewing out of him, and it's been inside long enough.

x

At some point—Kirk remembers so much of that night clearly, but not this—Frank's attention lapses, and Kirk does not stop to think. He takes a gun—maybe it was on the floor, maybe Frank was still holding it—and shoots Frank in the head.

Kirk has never held a weapon before this. The retort sends a bolt of white pain up his arm that explodes at his already injured shoulder, and he blacks out. When he wakes up, there is blood and brain everywhere, and Frank isn't moving.

The lawyer calls it adrenaline, courage, and self-defense. Kirk doesn't care what it is, or if it was right or wrong to do it. He cares that it's over now. He's slumped on a bench in a courtroom again, next to his mother, whose eyes are still bruised. Frank is in the hospital, in a coma, and he will never wake up.

x

Kirk pulls himself out of the past that he has been reliving and placed himself firmly in the present.

x

The caveat—there were so many, but like footnote 4 of _US v. Carolene_, this one was hugely significant—was that Kirk never told anyone that he had been raped.

Kirk never passed out at the hospital and refused a full-body scan. A doctor came into his room at midnight, accompanied by a police officer, and said something about "DNA" and "assault" and was about to say "sexual assault" when Kirk lifted his pointer finger—all he could move of his arms—and said, "I have the right not to have this investigated, correct?" The officer nodded briefly. "Then no," said Kirk. "I wasn't sexually assaulted, and if you find any evidence that proves I was, then not only is it false, but you also need to keep in mind that I won't be pressing charges."

The officer nodded again and left. The doctor looked angry, but Kirk just blinked at her, and she left too, slamming the door behind her, because there was nothing she could do.

x

"Because," said Kirk. "I didn't want to deal with it any more. I should have—that's what I think now. I didn't even know Frank's condition then. They wouldn't tell me about him—no, that's not true. I never asked. But even before I knew that he was brain dead, I didn't want to pursue charges."

"I am glad you changed your mind," said Spock. "Can the charges still be levied?"

"Yeah," said Kirk. "There was a 2028 Supreme Court case that ruled that the statue of limitations never expires on cases involving the physical or sexual abuse of children. And I was a minor."

"I am surprised you were able to force the doctors not to investigate," said Spock.

"Iowa has laws on the books that treat 17 as the age of medical consent. It's leftover from the pre-Federation days, and they're just getting around to changing it," said Kirk. He paused, letting the wind billow into the silence. "Thank you for listening," he said finally. He didn't know what he felt. There was hollow and emptiness. And energy; a huge amount of it, more than he'd felt, like crackling lightning.

x

Spock felt little unease. With any other person, he wouldn't have known what to say and it would have been terribly uncomfortable. But with Kirk, he didn't know what to say and that was fine. They let words lapse into silence.

Spock realized, at some point, that Kirk was glancing over at him, and that he wanted to say, "So, what's your deal?"

"Would you like to talk more?" asked Spock.

"Yes," said Kirk. His eyes were intent. "Tell me about you."

x


	41. Chapter 41: The Changeling

**A/N: **God, _finally_.

I don't want to minimize Spock's story, but I have no doubt that some of you will do so in reviews if I do not make this note, so here it is: Spock's story is not as sensational as Kirk's, although I would posit that it is substantially more surprising. Additionally, I regret slightly how I have handled part of it, but I will not discuss plot here. If you are interested in further notes (such as why this chapter has been finished for four weeks but only now posted), please visit my LJ, which is linked from my profile.

Medicine has advanced enough by this century that a full procedure such as I (vaguely) describe is possible. This is a fairy tale, of course, but so is the rest of the setting, after all. I am very sorry that this is only a fantasy.

One scene in this chapter is taken nearly word-for-word from a deleted scene from the film; all apologies.

Vulcan male names traditionally begin with an "S"; Vulcan female names, with "T'P." This is not a hard and fast rule. Vulcan culture is referenced from official canon. Memory Beta was _not_ accessed in the making of this chapter. All faults and fabrications are mine.

If any words or terms I use are cause for confusion, I believe Google is a useful reference tool. Additionally, this should be the last chapter with a funky timeline for a while. For those of you who are confused, go watch _Memento_. Or better yet, _Primer_.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Forty-One: The Changeling_

x

Children are all foreigners.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

x

When Spock left the jail, he did not look back.

Thoughts do not take very long. In the time that it takes a being to articulate a sentence of speech, they can think a hundred such sentences. We do not generate thoughts so much as they generate us. So when it is stated that Spock regretted that he did not look back, the caveat must be this: he did not regret it for long.

The look back is an important thematic element in film, a common device in literature, and in this case, an overused metaphor. But like all clichés it has some meaning: the look back is a précis—a nutshell, a pithy summary. Spock did not think the précis of his relationship with Kirk had anything to do with a jail. Instead he glanced into the sky, and the smallest corner of his lip turned up in what he would never, ever admit was a smile.

x

"Jim," said Spock, clasping his hands in front of his stomach. "We need to talk."

Kirk, formerly frozen in the doorway of the holding cell, unfroze thoroughly and smiled, which was surprising. "Yeah?" he said, sauntering over to the chair in front of the glass that separated him from Spock. "Did you know I'm in with Mandana? She got convicted for the thing, which, I mean, it makes sense."

"Yes," said Spock, narrowing his eyes. "Jim—"

"Evidently she has to be in jail for forty days," said Kirk. He laughed oddly. "That'd suck, huh? Forty days and forty nights. That's Lent, right? Yeah."

"Jim."

"I tried Lent, one time," said Kirk. "I gave up happiness." His face stilled. "Worked out a little too well."

This time, Spock did not speak.

Kirk sank into the chair. "We do need to talk," he said softly, leaning back, the fabric of his shirt taut over his chest. He looked thin and shrunken. The halogen lights cast long shadows over his eyes. He was stretched thin, Spock thought, so thin that holes were wearing.

Spock knew how that felt. He recognized Kirk's fragile outer layers, the deep gouges in them, wrought by situations and society. Unlike Kirk, Spock had been at peace with himself for years. But there remained scars that pained him, and he was beginning to think that some of them were debilitating. Perhaps a dialogue such as Kirk proposed could be… mutually beneficial.

"Do you want to talk now?" said Spock, carefully laying emphasis on the _now_.

"No, not here," said Kirk. He closed his eyes. "I don't know when."

"We _will_ talk," said Spock.

"Yeah," said Kirk. "We will."

There was nothing left to say. Spock nodded slightly to Kirk, and buzzed himself out.

x

Two hours later, it was Kirk holding Spock to it. Kirk's eyes were intent. "Tell me about you," he said.

Spock was in no hurry to divulge his own story, but he was also still concerned for Kirk. After all, Kirk had just recounted something immeasurably painful, something he had never told anyone. He looked different than he had in the cell. His hair stuck up; his eyes reflected the moon. He was brighter, thicker, more substantial, no longer a matte figure glued on a paper frame, but a real clay model, detailed and painted, features carved deep.

"Your appearance is improved," Spock said.

"That's not—"

"Please do not hurry me," said Spock quietly. "I did not hurry you. Jim, I am still worried." He hesitated. "How do you—feel?"

Kirk actually laughed. "Spock," he said, richly amused, "much better, now you've asked." He bent his head, smiling. "You're not abandoning me, so."

"I would never," Spock said. He wondered what his voice sounded like, because Kirk gave him a look that he didn't entirely understand.

"I think I believe you," said Kirk, half joking and half sincere.

"You should," said Spock. Without any transition he said, "I was born on Vulcan."

"Oh," said Kirk, trying to look interested and ending up just looking confused. "Yes? Well, I mean, with your father being… Vulcan and all…"

"Are you familiar with Vulcan society?" said Spock, leaning forward.

"Uh, well, you guys don't have much of a sense of humor," said Kirk, still at a loss. "You're a bit more serious than we are. Is that where you're going with this?"

"Yes and no," said Spock. "Generally I prefer if people's knowledge of Vulcan extends beyond how Vulcans are not like Terrans—which is a very ethnocentric viewpoint, I must remind you—but in this case, the difference between those societies is the issue at stake."

x

The house was gorgeous at dusk, all curving, sandy lines and dark entryways. The midwife, a gray-haired woman wearing the traditional shawl, handed a pitcher to the younger midwife and lifted the child in her arms.

"She is strong," she said.

The older midwife wrapped the infant in brown swaddling and extended the bundle to the mother, whose hair was damp with sweat. There were tears in the mother's eyes. She was exhausted and could barely support the child's weight. The reverence in her was like a choir.

"Hello," Amanda said softly, touching the infant's cheek.

The younger midwife emptied the pitcher at the back of the room. The older midwife came over to fetch water for Amanda, and saw the younger midwife looking back at the new mother.

"The baby is healthy," said the younger midwife. "Why does she cry?"

The older midwife paused. "She is human," she said. There were footsteps, and she looked up the stairs. "Sarek arrives," she said. She gave the younger midwife a significant glance, and they both departed. Sarek passed them on the stairs, and they nodded to him.

Sarek came to stand near Amanda. He looked down at the bundle in her arms, at the sweat on her face. "Well done," was all he said.

Amanda's look was nothing less than a glare. She was exhausted and delighted and very pissed off. "Thanks," she said, the sarcasm so heavy that even T'Pau could catch it.

Sarek knew he was in trouble, but he dug himself in deeper.

"Your tone suggests disappointment," he said, completely emotionless. "The Science Council required my presence for a session regarding—"

"Don't do that," Amanda snapped. "You knew I wanted you here."

Sarek glanced out the window. The shards of the sun were glittering on the horizon.

"As you are aware, the Vulcan male is traditionally not present at the moment of delivery."

"That is _not_ how it works on Earth," Amanda growled. "I moved here, to another _planet_, to be with _you_, Sarek. I needed you to be with me today. Holding my hand and telling me I'm doing great, even when I'm just breathing—when breathing is the best I can do. Have you ever given birth?"

Sarek got down on his knees next to her. He took her hand in his and said quietly, "You are correct, Amanda. I should have been here. I am sorry."

Amanda smiled, and with her free hand, tugged Sarek forward to kiss him. Then the two looked at the baby, whose eyes were closed.

"I had a thought," said Sarek. "We might name the child after one of our respected early society-builders. Her name was T'Pock."

Amanda raised an eyebrow and stared down at the infant.

"Your silence does not suggest enormous enthusiasm," says Sarek.

"No…" Amanda murmured. She blinked a few times and stroked the child's forehead. "T'Pock. T'Pock. It grows on me."

Sarek nodded, realizing she'd come around. The baby opened her eyes, and Sarek was struck.

"The child has your eyes," he said to his wife.

Amanda reached into the baby's swaddling to reveal the side of her head. "And your ears," she said. "T'Pock. Our handsome girl."

"Our beautiful girl," Sarek agreed.

x

From the beginning, T'Pock was not a normal Vulcan child. She eschewed traditional clothing and spent vast amounts of time playing make-believe games with T'Pring, the daughter of Sarek's assistant, Idris. She was a little more emotional than Vulcans expected of their children, and Amanda, who laughed too much and hugged her daughter even more, was generally blamed for this. Sarek did not mind too much at first: T'Pock adored logic puzzles and math games as much as all Vulcan children did, and excelled in school, where she was much loved by her peers.

The thing that bothered Sarek the most was that T'Pock would insist on wearing male clothing. She kept her hair short, in a sharp bowl-cut that covered the tips of her ears loosely. T'Pring, on the other hand, always dressed reasonably, in a girl's loose greens and browns. T'Pock and T'Pring were the best of friends.

"And then the Federation starship, the _Cassandra_, flies into the Romulan Neutral Zone," T'Pock said, moving her model starship into a dark strip on the carpet of the receiving room. They were six, and Sarek and Idris were in the study, talking about Council business. Amanda was a few hours away, at a Vulcan school, consulting with teachers. "T'Pring, where is the Romulan warbird?"

"I hid it under the table," said T'Pring solemnly. "The Romulans will not attack the _Cassandra_ because it has destroyed many Romulan warbirds before this."

"Yes, but this starship is new," T'Pock insisted. The neck of her black tunic was unbuttoned to the breastbone, and her white shirt beneath was crinkled. She had a chubby, wide-eyed face that easily rested into an expression of determination. "The Romulans do not know about the _Cassandra_."

"The _Cassandra_ has been destroying Romulan warbirds since we were four," T'Pring said. She was already a beauty. She had high cheekbones and piercing eyes, and her long hair was tied up high on her head and fell down in rolling curls. Unlike T'Pock, she looked delicate and passive. She was everything but: T'Pring was top in her combat class.

T'Pock glared at T'Pring. "This is made-up," she said. "We know that the _Cassandra_ can destroy the warbirds. But the Romulans do not."

"But the _Cassandra_—" T'Pring broke off at T'Pock's sign. "What?"

"Ssh!" said T'Pock, glancing around. "They will hear you!"

"Who will?"

"The Klingons! They are mounting a sneak attack!"

"Oh no!" cried T'Pring, snatching, from under the table, the model she had hidden there. "Here they come! They are using the Tak'rah Delta formation to surround the _Cassandra_!"

"Formidable!" gasped T'Pock. "The _Cassandra_ arms phasers! Tactical maneuver four-four-tau-two!"

"The birds-of-prey arm phasers as well! Shields! Red alert! Battle stations!"

The _Cassandra_ demolished the twelve Klingon birds-of-prey in an epic battle that spanned the entire receiving room. Exhausted, T'Pock and T'Pring retired to the kitchen to sit on the cold tile floor and drink water. They left the tiny, triumphant _Cassandra_ on a carefully constructed stack of pillows as a reward for her hard work.

T'Pock unbuttoned her black tunic all the way and laid down on the floor, her thin chest rising and falling rapidly. T'Pring watched her, unblinking, and sipped her water. Finally she put the glass down and said, "T'Pock, why do you not wear clothes like mine?"

"Female clothes?" said T'Pock, her eyes closed. She was spread-eagled on the tile. The coolness of it seeped into her skin.

"Yes," said T'Pock.

"I do not like being female," said T'Pock. As T'Pring watched, T'Pock, eyes still shut, pointed at her head. "I do not feel female, in here."

T'Pring cocked her head. "That is not logical. You are female. Your DNA is female."

T'Pock sighed. "I know. I agree that it is not logical. But my make-believe is not logical either, and you will play it with me."

"Your make-believe is fun," said T'Pring. "Your mother has good ideas about playing. I very much like math games but make-believe is…" She frowned. "Differently rewarding."

They were quiet for a while.

"Do you dislike being female?" said T'Pring.

"Why do you inquire?" said T'Pock. She opened her eyes and sat up, shifting so that she was sitting against the kitchen island, facing T'Pring.

"I am curious," said T'Pring, raising her nose. "My father says curiosity is a good trait."

T'Pock (who was rather scared of Idris) nodded. "My mother says that as well. She also says something about deceased felines in a related context, but I am not sure what that means. I dislike being female, yes."

"Why?" said T'Pring.

T'Pock was silent for a while. She clasped her hands in front of her knees, which she had pulled up to her chest.

"Because it is not right," she said.

"I do not understand," said T'Pring.

"Do you need to?" said T'Pock.

T'Pring considered. "You are my best friend," she said. "And we are to be bonded in seven months. I would like to understand."

"Perhaps when we are bonded and are able to mind meld, you will be able to understand," said T'Pock.

T'Pring nodded. "I would like that very much," she said.

They heard their fathers approaching then, and stood up quickly. Sarek came in first, saying to Idris, "… can discuss this with T'Pau later. T'Pock, T'Pring, I greet thee."

"I greet thee," T'Pock and T'Pring intoned as well.

"Daughter, we depart," said Idris. "Sarek, thanks be. Live long and prosper."

"Remember the meeting, Idris. Live long and prosper."

T'Pring followed Idris out the door. T'Pock waved at her. T'Pring waved back solemnly and disappeared.

"What did you do with T'Pring today, T'Pock?" Sarek asked.

"We played make-believe," said T'Pock, watching as Sarek poured himself a glass of water. "We discussed how I do not like being female."

Sarek paused. "What did you say?"

T'Pock thought that was strange: her father had excellent hearing, for a male. "We discussed how I do not like being female," she repeated.

"You are female," said Sarek strongly. He fixed T'Pock with a cold stare. "T'Pock, you cannot be led to believe or lead yourself to believe that you are anything other than female. It is an illogical belief that is against the Vulcan way, and you will not express it in my house."

T'Pock shrank back. "Yes, father," she said. "I am female. I am sorry."

x

When Amanda arrived home, she found Sarek in his study furiously reading Surak and T'Pock in her room, in her informal robe, staring dolefully at a female garment that she had laid out on the bed.

"Okay," said Amanda, sitting down next to T'Pock. "What happened?"

Sarek's reply to T'Pock's explanation, and the ensuing fight, took about an hour. By the time Amanda had slammed every door in the house between her husband and her daughter and was sitting on T'Pock's bed, trying not to scream, Sarek had stormed out of the house entirely.

"Mother," said T'Pock worriedly, "are you well? Did father leave?"

"I am well, dear, yes," said Amanda, opening her arms. T'Pock climbed onto the bed next to Amanda and scrunched up next to her. "How was your day?"

"It was normal," said T'Pock, picking at her robe. "Mother, do I have to wear that dress?" She nodded behind her, at an unworn moss green dress that lived in her closet, so much like T'Pring's favorite outfit.

"No," snapped Amanda. "You can wear whatever you want."

"Father said—"

"You _ignore_ what your father said," Amanda said. T'Pock saw a bright red blush of anger spread across her mother's cheeks. "You can wear what you want and cut your hair how you will, T'Pock. You are my child, and if you are happy, then I am happy. _How_ you are happy does not matter to me, as long as it infringes on the rights of no one else."

T'Pock didn't say anything.

"T'Pock," said Amanda, softer. "I know you don't—do traditional girl things. I mean…" Amanda sighed. "This isn't a problem, where I'm from. On Vulcan, they don't really have…" She struggled to articulate the issue. "They've never had problems with male/female equality on Vulcan. But there _are_ different codes of dress and behavior here, for boys and girls."

"I know, mother," said T'Pock.

"And you… and people who don't fit into that package… they don't… they aren't nice those people," said Amanda. "I am sorry to say that your father is one of the 'they'." She sighed again. "But they're_ all_ theys."

"T'Pring is not a they," said T'Pock, looking up at Amanda. "She said she wanted to understand me."

"That is wonderful," said Amanda, smiling. "Good. Good for T'Pring. Children are always open-minded. They used to say, 'People aren't born homo_phobic_.'"

"What is 'homophobic'?" said T'Pock.

"It's an old term. I'm glad you don't know it, Tocket," said Amanda, rubbing T'Pock's back. "It means, 'afraid of homosexuality.'"

"That is illogical," said T'Pock matter-of-factly. "There is nothing to fear from any sexuality."

"Oh dear. You're six," said Amanda, rather sadly. "I suppose we'll have to have The Talk soon. Vulcans grow up too fast." T'Pock looked like she wanted to ask more questions, so Amanda said quickly, "No, I am glad you know that, T'Pock. Since you know what 'homophobic' means, can you tell me what 'transphobic' means?"

"_Phobia_ is _fear_," said T'Pock. She scrunched up her face. "_Trans_ is _change_. To fear change?"

"There is an essential root left out in the word, but, yes, to a certain extent. T'Pock, did you know that there are people who are born as one sex, but have surgery to become another sex?"

T'Pock's eyes widened. "They do?"

"Yes, they're called transgender people. After they have changed, they are transsexual people." Amanda watched T'Pock's face. "That's simplifying the gender spectrum quite a lot, but."

"Why… why do they change?" asked T'Pock. There was something in T'Pock's voice indicating that she already knew the answer.

"They change because their sex is not the same as their gender. Do you know what the difference between 'sex' and 'gender' is, T'Pock?"

"No," said T'Pock, clearly concerned that she lacked any knowledge at all.

"Sex is body. It is what your body is. My body is female. Gender is what your mind is. My mind is female as well. This means that I am cisgender: my sex matches my gender."

"Then my sex is female and my gender is male," said T'Pock excitedly.

"Are you sure?" said Amanda gently.

"Yes, yes I am sure," said T'Pock. She had a wide smile on her face, and it hurt Amanda's heart to see it—T'Pock smiled so rarely. "This is logical, mother. It explains all of what I feel. It was illogical when I did not know this because I did not know how I could be female and feel male. But this is logical and this is how I am. When can I change so that I match?"

"Oh honey," said Amanda, wrapping her arm around T'Pock's shoulders. "That's a big, slimy barrel of eels."

x

The idea burrowed into T'Pock's head like a worm and consumed her. She told T'Pring about it first thing the next day. T'Pring was hesitant: she had never heard of something so outlandish, and a small part of her wanted to blame this on Amanda, the illogical, human influence in T'Pock's life. But most of her was happy that T'Pock had found a solution to her problem.

One day, at school, they were put in a rare group-teach to learn about electricity. The teacher set them at lab tables and had them repair transistors. T'Pock was paired with Melor, one of her dear friends. Melor was taller than everyone in her class and less intelligent than everyone else too, but he was very charming, and much liked.

He did well with their transistor and did not require much help from T'Pock. He was soldering a small piece inside of the machine when he asked T'Pock to hand him an instrument. As she did, the sleeves of her boy's tunic caught on another instrument, and it took her a moment to untangle herself.

"Why do you wear male clothing?" Melor asked. It was a question T'Pock had always been faced with, but since almost everyone she knew had first asked the question years ago, she had not had a chance to give her new answer until now.

"Because I am male," she said proudly, handing him tool.

"That is untrue," said Melor firmly. "You are female."

"My sex is female," T'Pock explained. "My gender is male."

"There is no difference between sex and gender."

"But there is a difference between _katra_ and _ak'shem_, mind and body," said T'Pock, who had philosophized this herself. "This is taught. My _katra_ and my _ak'shem_ differ."

"That is illogical," said Melor. He had stopped working and was watching T'Pock. "A dysphoria such as what you describe is a sign of madness. Perhaps it is a result of your mixed heritage."

"I do not know what it is a result of, but it is not of madness," said T'Pock. "Melor, you know me. I am not like other girls."

"Indeed you are not," said Melor, standing up. "You are not Vulcan. Teacher, I will not have this partner."

Perhaps blindly, T'Pock was unconcerned. But for the first time, she felt real determination. Before, being transgender had been a logical solution to the problem she experienced. Now, it was something more visceral. Melor was wrong. She was not mad, and she was not female: she was male, and if her _katra_ was her true self, as she had been taught, then she was done with any part of being female. She had thought about her male name, Spock, before. It was what she would call herself after the surgery, whenever that occured. But it occurred to her that she was already Spock. And that she wasn't she. She was he. He was he. _I am I._

Spock was distracted for the rest of the day, thinking about his new identity that was not new, but that was newly come by. T'Pring, as usual, walked home with him, to meet her father at Spock's house.

"Melor was saying terrible things about you to T'Pera and the others," said T'Pring, the tiniest hint of concern evident on her face. "I tried to explain to them how you are male, but they would not listen. They called you mad and not Vulcan. They think that your human blood is bad."

"My blood is perfectly fine," said Spock confidently. "T'Pring, I would ask you not to call me T'Pock. It is not a true name."

"But it is your name," said T'Pring.

"It is a female name. I am Spock."

T'Pring nodded. "This is logical. Your _katra_ is male, and your voice speaks from your _katra_, and I speak with your voice. Yes."

"Thank you, T'Pring."

"You are welcome, Spock."

Spock almost smiled. The surge of pleasure that zipped up his spine when T'Pring said "Spock" was something he would never forget.

x

For a long time, it was beyond Spock to see why everyone did not feel as he did. That night, he asked his mother and father to call him "Spock." Sarek, fed up by his daughter's insistence that she was not a she, exploded (as much as a Vulcan can explode) at the table. Amanda sent Spock (who she immediately called "Spock," much to Spock's pleasure) to his room. Spock listened at the door, but he could not hear what his mother and father were saying. After a long time, Amanda came in to his room.

"I am very sorry about your father," she said, standing near the door. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was trembling slightly. "This is a cultural difference that I had not expected to need to surmount. It is well documented in the Federation that Vulcans are highly transphobic. Earth, Andoria, and Tellar have tried for many years now to change this, but it is difficult to—it is—" Amanda let out a huff of frustration. "Truthfully, the others do not think that it is a major issue."

"It is to me," said Spock quietly.

"Oh, Tocket, I know," said Amanda sadly, coming over to him. "We'll convince your father. Don't worry."

x

A month and four days after T'Pring turned seven, Spock did as well. The bonding ceremony was held a week after that.

The day before the ceremony, Spock was walking to the kitchen when he passed Amanda's study and heard her talking.

"… and he just won't listen to me, Sybok. Did you know that my father is transsexual? Sarek even knew that, and he blamed it on being human—I mean, it was something I had to _not_ discuss with him, because otherwise, he's completely wonderf—well, I need to repeat that to myself, at the moment, because I'm _this_ close…. But anyway, like humans have some lease on gender dysphoria. It's universal, studies have shown…. I know, it's a bullshit point of view. It's Vulcan and it's idiotic, I mean—yes, I don't have to tell you. I just can't stand it. This would be so simple if we were on Earth." There was a long pause, and then Amanda's voice rose. "No, Sybok—no, you can't possibly—Sybok…. _Listen_. You _can't_—ugh!" Spock heard call-cancel being pressed. He turned away from the door and hurried to the kitchen.

Amanda came in just as Spock was pouring himself water. "Get me a glass as well, dear," she said, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Yes, mother," said Spock dutifully. He watched Amanda out of the corner of her eye. Her elbow was on the table; her head rested on the heel of her hand. She stared out the window.

"Mother? What concerns you?"

Amanda blinked. "Oh, nothing. Did I tell you Sybok's going to be here? He can't make it tomorrow—evidently he has to testify on Antares at noon tomorrow, and it couldn't be moved, but he's coming."

"Ah," said Spock.

Spock did not know Sybok very well. Sybok was Sarek's son by his first wife, a Vulcan priestess named Erire who had died in childbirth. Sybok was much older than Spock and he did not live on Vulcan. Nor did he follow the teachings of Surak, much to his father's displeasure.

Amanda eyed him. "How are you?"

"I am fine, mother," he said.

"You know I can't convince T'Pau to change anything in the ceremony," said Amanda, her eyes going sad.

"Yes," said Spock. "I know."

x

Bonding ceremonies between individuals of the same sex had been occurring on Vulcan for millennia, but their numbers had increased greatly within the last millennium. It was now, and had been for centuries, considered commonplace to arrange bonds between children of the same sex.

On the morning of the ceremony, Amanda delivered Spock to the temple, where he was accepted by three lower priestesses. They took him to the water sanctuary, where he was bathed and clothed, and words were said over his _katra_. A senior priestess helped him to prepare his mind.

In the Words, he was T'Pock, bonded to T'Pring, and his ornamentation was female. His hair, shorter than ever, was done up with beads and other _ek'zeru_. His robes were dark green on the outside, the finest Andorian silk and Bajoran lace, with a royal blue line and edging. Spock was practically Vulcan royalty, and no expense was spared.

Spock and T'Pring stood before T'Pau, who spoke the Words over them. They put their hands palm to palm, making the _ta'al_ with their fingers, and together recited, when it was time, "Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched."

Spock felt a hole form in his consciousness, and T'Pring fell through it, into his mind.

x

Even as seven-year olds, it was evident to Spock and T'Pring that they were not meant to be.

The touch of T'Pring's mind on his felt like acid. All of the other mental contact Spock had had, with his father, his brother, and his teachers, had been soft; with his father, the intrusion was lessened by love. But even the slightest hint of T'Pring's consciousness felt like stepping on broken glass.

Spock was very upset, and so was T'Pring. They were close friends, and T'Pring was the only Vulcan who came close to understanding Spock. Amanda, who had no direct knowledge of mind melds and psychic bonds, could not help, and Spock was unwilling to talk to Sarek about it. T'Pring thought that the problem stemmed from Spock's human half interfering with his Vulcan half and insisted that they did not need to pursue the issue.

So they grew apart.

Of course, there was another variable. Actually it wasn't so much of a variable as it was a catastrophe mixed in with a miracle. The day after the bonding ceremony, Sybok arrived.

He looked nothing like Sarek, Spock thought. He wore Andorian clothing and a thick black beard and _smiled_. Amanda greeted him hesitantly; Sarek woodenly. Spock, back in his boy's tunic, raised his hand in greeting. He had not seen Sybok in three years, and then it had only been for a week.

Sybok made his position on the matter of Spock's gender identity clear by smiling at Spock's raised hand and saying, "Hello, Spock."

Thunder flashed through Sarek's eyes. "Your sister's name is T'Pock," he said.

"My brother's name is Spock, father," said Sybok. "Your wife has told me all about what you've done to him, and I will not have the situation continue." He adjusted the collar of his tunic and walked towards Spock.

"Sybok," said Amanda warningly. Spock would later realize that Amanda didn't expect Sybok to do what he did, although she knew it was a possibility. He never blamed her for it.

"Don't wait up," said Sybok. He was standing next to Spock, now. He touched Spock's arm, and Spock looked over in time to see Sybok press a button on a small remote he was holding.

A warm transporter beam pulled him apart and put him back together. Spock stumbled. He did not expect to be transported. He was standing in the small transporter panel of a ship, with Sybok still at his side.

"Brother, where are we?" said Spock carefully. He hadn't expected this. He was afraid. He was so many things and they were all boiling up in his stomach, threatening to come out, and he was convinced Sybok was betraying him, and he missed his mother already, and he didn't know what to do.

"We're on a ship heading to Earth, Spock," said Sybok, helping Spock out of the panel. He bent down in front of him, the folds of his clothes thickening as he crouched. When he was at Spock's level, he smiled widely. "You want to go get that surgery?" he said, like it was the simplest, most obvious thing in the world. "If you'd like, Spock, that's what we'll do."

Spock's heart stopped beating for a second, and the fear inside of him reversed itself completely. Little black spots danced over his eyes and his throat tightened, and for the first time in a long time he felt dampness in his eyes. "Yes, brother," he breathed. "Nothing would be more logical."

Spock looked back many times at this minute. He looked at how surprised he was and how afraid he was, but how excited he was. He had never expected to feel such a surge of hugeness in his soul when he considered how he would be _he_ soon. He would also think that he placed too much importance in the surgery: after all, he didn't require a physical male form to consider himself male. But at the same time, he knew the surgery was what he wanted—what he required.

Spock was too jittery to pay much attention to the other people on the ship, but he remembered one of them in particular. She was a very tall Bajoran woman with earrings that went down to her breasts, and she wore her light hair in a bun on the very top of her head. He remembered her saying to him, "You can never see behind your own eyes," while they were eating dinner with the rest of Sybok's friends (three Andorians, a Tellarite, and two Orions). He remembered her saying to him, "Don't ever think it's over."

Earth let them beam down. Spock walked into a hospital in his boy's clothes and walked out of the hospital in his boy's clothes. The doctors were strange: they smiled and laughed, and touched him gently and asked if it was alright that they did so, and they took measurements differently and Spock had to remember that Earth used something called the _metric_ _system_, and the rooms were warm (welcoming) and cool (to his hot skin). After a day in a hormone therapy apparatus, he laid down on a table and a gorgeous man with one bright brown eye touched his arm more considerately, more understandingly than Spock had ever been touched, and he fell away into a pool of sunwater, and when he woke up, there was an ache was back behind his teeth, shifted away by the medicines but still present, and he was right, he was whole, he was something he had always been but was only now becoming.

They told _him_ afterwards, after _he_ had stood in the hospital courtyard with _his_ hand over _his_ heart, staring at the beech tree with a chirping bird perched in the tufts of its hair, after they had asked him wide-eyed how he was, how he felt, if he needed anything, what they could do, after they had scanned him for hours and then smiled and rubbed their hands to say, "Yes," as if he didn't already know how _yes_ he was. They told him then that, actually. Well. There had been an incident. Not during the operation, no, no (shaking their heads quickly). Nothing had happened to _him_. And just as their use of that pronoun was finally going to make him smile, they said (and it didn't matter how), "Your brother, his ship, a crash, all dead."

x

There was so much more but the gist of it was that for a long time, rather than making things better, it seemed that the surgery had made things worse. Spock had always been a boy but not everybody had known that. Spock had always been a rebel too, but that wasn't his fault. And Spock had never been a murderer or even anybody guilty or capable of manslaughter, but the story rode on the wind's wings and everybody knew.

Sarek took a long, long time to come around, and it was not until Spock attempted suicide at the age of twelve that he finally understood what his son was going through, and agreed that they should move. Convincing the Vulcan council that this was necessary was nearly impossible, but they finally transferred him to Earth, and so by the time Spock was thirteen and ready to start high school, they were living on Aktor Street and I-Chaya was sniffing fire hydrants while they walked him across Golden Gate Park.

x

Sybok's wake was lyric and sweet. The Bajoran woman with the long earrings and (Spock remembered now, as he stared at her urn) leaf green eyes had left a book, and her parents gave it to Spock, because Spock told Amanda quietly what the Bajoran woman had said to him, and her parents had overheard, and they (were quick to say that) they disapproved of their daughter's (free-wheeling, transitory, hippie) lifestyle, and they had this for him, because they (didn't want it) thought he might need it. There was poetry and prose in it, and Spock read it front to back, back to front three times, and then never again, because he had a strong memory of reading it in the study of their home on Vulcan, with the light just so at sunset and the dust motes like glittering gold leaf, and he couldn't read it anywhere else, and he had memorized it anyway.

Spock was seven, it has to be recalled. Vulcans at seven are humans at twelve, although the maturation slows soon after that, and by the time Vulcans are eighteen years old, they are about as mature as humans at twenty. (From then, their maturation begins to vary in an even greater measure from humans, but that does not matter here.) Even so, he was seven, and there was nothing in the world to convince him that he had not just killed a man.

More than one man: eight people. Eight living beings that would not have died if it wasn't for him. He ignored all of the other factors (as one does), such as: they chose to come get him. The ship belonged to one of the Andorians, and he had not kept it in as good repair as was required. They were all Sybok's friends, and they agreed with Sybok that something had to be done to help his half-brother, and they smiled at him (Spock remembers this too, at the wake) when he came on board, and talked over dinner (Spock does not remember this) about the gender binary and genderqueerness and gender in general, and how they would so like to disregard it. Primarily, it was an accident, and accidents happen, and accidents are awful, and they are not as a whole the fault of anyone, although small pieces of them have fault attached, but no piece of that fault was Spock's, or anyone's still living.

But tell Spock that. For the next five years he knew he had caused the crash. He knew it was all his fault. He knew that the transition had been a mistake, he knew that he had caused a huge rift in his family, he knew that his peers loathed him and it _was_ his fault, he knew he didn't talk to T'Pring the same way anymore, he knew he was terrible, he was a murderer and a fraud, he was wrong, he was confused, he wasn't Vulcan. That was what beat in his head like a drum. He wasn't Vulcan. He would never be Vulcan. He had no place among Vulcans.

Negative perception bends the glass of social acuity to the point that the distortion begins to hurt. The distortion wraps itself around the brain stem and squeezes, and your eyes cross and your hands start to shake whenever you speak. You are always right (or at least on the right track), but you never know it. You stand there in a pit while all around you, bent out of shape and twisted, the world stones you, and you bleed enough that you don't want the bleeding to be sluggish anymore.

Five months into Spock's twelfth year he made perfect grades in all of his classes, walked out onto the Fal'haek Overlook, and without hesitating, took a step off of it.

x

"I recovered," said Spock.

Kirk looked at him. After a while he said, "Comprehensively?"

If Spock were fully human he would have said "Sure," with a wide shrug, but instead he said, "Yes," and raised his eyebrows very slightly. Probably only Kirk and Sarek would have noticed the eyebrow raise.

"Almost," said Kirk, kind of getting it.

"Yes," said Spock. "It helped. Helped is—not the right word. Yet it is accurate."

"Yeah," said Kirk. "Yeah, okay.

"Is that it?"

Spock shifted back on the heels of his feet, stretching his shoulder blades. The dew had begun to seep through his pants. It was definitely uncomfortable. He wanted to go inside and get in his bed and curl up next to Kirk and breathe in the scent of his hair, and have Kirk run his hands down his back, and fall asleep, and awake in the morning to eggs, possibly.

"That is the précis," said Spock.

"So I should go," said Kirk.

Spock blinked. "If you like. But Jim."

"Yeah?"

Maybe Spock was imagining it, but he thought Kirk's voice was heavy.

"Thank you."

"Thank _you_," said Kirk. Spock saw Kirk's muscles tense and they stood up together, Spock brushing his seat off discreetly.

Spock didn't know what else to say. Kirk was getting a funny expression as they walked back to the road, and to Spock's relief, when they were on the sidewalk and Spock needed to cross and Kirk needed to go left and find his bike, Kirk said, "Spock, really. It's alright."

"Yes, I know," said Spock, knowing he sounded impatient and hoping Kirk understood that he had to sound impatient because he was Spock and all. "And I hope you know that I will not leave."

"And I won't judge you," said Kirk. "Not in a million years."

Spock didn't know what gesture to make and he could see a break in the traffic coming up. He wanted to shake Kirk's hand at least, but he couldn't read Kirk's body language, and he settled on stepping forward to wave, and Kirk waved too, his eyes glittering in the headlights dancing by, and Spock took two steps off the curb and Kirk was gone into the dark.

Spock slept, deeply and darkly, comprehensively, and sweetly.

x

Spock broke his back a second time in the hospital, and they had to sedate him and restrain him to stop him from doing more damage. He floated, for a while, watching the sky.

There was a bird on the ledge outside, an edik. It tilted its orange head. The feathers at the back of its neck stuck up comically. The sky was wide and lemon-colored, and a page of heat slipped under the window's seal.

Spock's mind made a few connections, and he thought: "'Don't ever think it's over.'" The haze in him was thick like a line of numbers, and humid, too. He wanted to fan himself. He would have done anything to be cold and away. But he thought, "'Don't ever think it's over,'" and there was ice in his hands and coolness at his head. A nurse was giving him water and flipping over his pillow. He smiled and Spock thought he had the same brown eye that the nurse on Terra had.

For the first time the taste of memory was appetizing. He thanked the nurse, slurring, and drank the water, and in a few hours his back hurt more than anything ever had or ever would, for which he was glad.

x

_I think I've replied to everyone who left a review for the last chapter. If I've somehow missed you, let me know. I have no current time frame for posting the next chapter, but as always, reviews are appreciated and taken into account. If you have any questions or complaints, they will be addressed._


	42. Chapter 42: An Interval: III

**A/N: **Because there is a _lot_ of life happening right now and this isn't going to get updated until Christmas break otherwise.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Forty-Two: An Interval (III)_

x

The park was brighter in the day.

Obviously. No matter how large and luminescent the streetlamps were, their halos were blue or gray, casting a white light that wasn't the same as the sun, that didn't have the sun's sweet texture. Kirk lay heavily on the grass, his shoulders pressed down, his spine lined up and his legs out straight. The sun walked up and down his skin for a while and finally laid its head on his joints and breathed so slowly that it sank into his bones.

The color behind his eyelids was becoming black from white-yellow when it went gray. "Jim," said Spock. "Taking in the sun?"

"It's getting warmer," said Kirk, putting his forearm in front of his eyes and opening them. "Look, I forgot a jacket today and I'm not going to freeze to death."

Spock did not respond. He got to his knees, steadying himself with a splayed palm as he lowered himself onto the grass. Spock lay out beside him, a considerate distance away, maybe half a meter or so. Just enough to reach over and grab Spock's hand. Just enough to want to.

"Considering our conversation last night, I am doing very well," said Spock. Kirk, by then, had moved his arm, so he couldn't look over at Spock without obviously doing so. The sun would spear him straight in the optic nerve.

"Me too," echoed Kirk, "considering."

Spock didn't hesitate. "It is gorgeous in San Francisco."

"It is," said Kirk. He squinted, then widened his eyes. There was a wide-brimmed tree at the upper edge of his vision. The leaves were a nearly transparent green. They waved like hands in the wind. People's feet crunched grass all around them; it wasn't crowded, but privacy would be hard to find.

"What do you like the most?"

The sun meant that when he looked over at Spock, he saw only a profile; a mountainous nose growing from the facial plain and the edges of smooth, straight hair. There was no color in the glimpse; there was too much shadow and too much light. But Kirk did see a glint of green in Spock's lips, pursed and hilly beneath his nose.

"Well, you, obviously," said Kirk in his head. He tried to say it out loud, just to test it out, just to see what it would be like if he had permission to say these things to the best person he knew. He looked down at Spock's hands, clasped exactly over his stomach, and said, "The company is pretty great."

Spock shifted in the grass and turned his head away. "It is."

Kirk closed his eyes. _Close enough for now._

x


	43. Chapter 43: Day of the Dove

**A/N:** This chapter is 1000% more cheerful and 1000% less plot-filled than the last two. Enjoy.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Forty-Three: Day of the Dove_

x

Kirk got home late that night. He climbed back through his window and stared at the teacup his mother had left on his nightstand. For a while, he wanted to break something, but it was a latent feeling, and really, he was too tired to do violence.

He felt a pang when he first saw the tea, but he couldn't muster up more than that. Even though it was horribly cold, he took a deep gulp that nearly trained the little cup. Then he fell into bed, and sleep.

x

Kirk didn't talk to himself very often, but when he woke up the next morning fully dressed and with a massive zipper pattern on his face thanks to his weirdly positioned jacket, he said, "Okay. I'm doing _nothing_ productive today."

It was a pretty challenging proposition. The day was Sunday and he had four tests in the next week, and obviously had to beat Spock in all of them. But as he lay there, staring at the indentions in the ceiling, he came up with a pretty good plan.

First, he called Uhura.

"Are you alive?" she said.

"Yes," he said. Then he poked himself. "Yes," he said again.

"Had to make sure?"

"Shut up. Listen—"

"Is Spock alive?"

"Last time I checked. Do you—"

"Have you two worked out your issues, then?"

"Nyota."

"Because I think that basically this entire world is proof that men really, _really_ need to have good emotional maturity before they should be released into the wild, I mean, you know about Leopold the Second, right? Belgium itself didn't have control of the Belgian Congo until 1908, can you believe it?"

"Oh my God, where the fuck are you going with this?"

"I'm just saying, if men aren't emotionally mature…" Kirk could _hear_ Uhura's shrug. "Shit happens."

"Okay," said Kirk. "I mean, go on if you like, but I called to organize an outing."

"Ah, of what nature?" She was obviously intrigued.

"This is actually why I called you," said Kirk. "I'm not sure. I just know that I personally have experienced pretty massive amounts of stress recently, and I'd like to let off some major steam."

"Oh, can do," said Uhura enthusiastically. "You're thinking, paid, free, entertainment, social, what?"

"No parks," said Kirk categorically.

"A movie? _Avatar 9_ is out."

"High quality," said Kirk sarcastically.

"Okay, yes, but the more pop-culture… among… us… okay. Yeah, never mind, I just looked it up. Jesus, it got like two percent on Rotten Tomatoes. Food, then?"

"Lunch?"

"Um, do you know what time it is?"

Kirk looked at a clock. "Okay, or maybe dinner. God, I can't believe I slept that long."

"I've been up since _seven_," said Uhura perkily.

"Can you just… die?"

"Eventually, sure. Even so, we have plenty of time until dinner. Does that sound good? How about Obie's?"

"Hm." Obie's was an outdoor place near Market and Van Ness. They had amazing phở and chicken tenders. "Yes. Seven?"

"Yes. You call people?"

"I call boys, you call girls?"

"See you there."

x

Kirk, maybe on purpose, encouraged the people he called to call other people, and okay, he wasn't planning for what happened to happen, but luckily Uhura had apparently done the same thing, so the male-to-female proportions were good. What happened was that fifty people from Enterprise High showed up at Obie's at seven o'clock on a Sunday night and promptly got their party on.

The staff at Obie's were more worried about turning a profit than underage drinking and with almost incident eagerness served everybody nice, frosty beers. Kirk nursed a longneck and looked around for Spock.

"He's not here yet," said Bones gruffly. He had just disentangled himself from two worshipful football fans and was almost done with his first Coors.

"Who?" said Kirk, falsely confused. "What?"

"Spock's not here yet," said Bones patiently. "You're lookin' for him, right?"

"Um," said Kirk, surprisingly nonplussed. "Yes. Yes I am."

"Yeah, how is that?"

"Well," said Kirk, "I almost died on Friday, I got arrested on Saturday, and today I slept until two PM. So my relationship with Spock is going pretty well, I'd say."

"Was that just Friday?" Bones whistled. "You are a lucky man."

"Yes," said Kirk. "Yes I am." He leaned up against a table and stuffed a fistful of fries into his mouth. "Or maybe really unlucky. Which is it? I can't figure out if my life has been shit, or awesome."

"The highs and the lows can be confusin'," said Bones. "I personally feel that you've led an awesome life. At least you're not an Antarean Scum-scraper. Or an Orion slave."

"Don't be my mom," said Kirk. "You know, the 'Eat your food! There are kids on Orion without replicators!' shtick."

"My dads said that to me all the damn time," said Bones. "When I brought Gaila over for the first time I made her tell 'em that replicators are standard on Orion, thank you very much."

They sipped their beers.

"You know what's weird?" said Bones. "I get this feelin' about you, Jim. I mean, Friday, when the hovercar exploded and everybody was freakin' out… I don't think anybody thought you'd died. Christine kept sayin' things about you bein' maimed and Hikaru was convinced you'd get burned bad enough to scar. But nobody thought you were dead. And it wasn't just them denyin' it to themselves. I really think that it didn't cross their mind."

Kirk looked at him. He was strangely unsure of what Bones was getting at. "What do you mean?" he said.

"You're—ah," Bones harrumphed. "You're immortal to us, I guess. And it's been just seven months since you moved here from a whole n'other place, and you're already, I don't know, a big granite statue. Winds'll wear you down, but you're not like Ozymandias. I mean, everybody is; the processes of the Earth—but that's not the point. As you are…" Bones shrugged. "I don't know, Jim. You just won't quit."

Kirk could think back to a time in his life when he wouldn't have known what to say to that. He smiled at Bones and touched his arm. "Thanks," he said, and, "Want another beer?"

x

I-Chaya did not enjoy being walked in the Embassy's formal garden. Vulcan in origin though he was, I-Chaya did not adhere to Vulcan standards of decency and decorum. He liked romping massively and eating expensive ornamental flowers. Very expensive ornamental flowers.

"Not," said Spock, dire, "the dadenias—" Too late. A thin, tinkling bunch of pale yellow flowers disappeared into I-Chaya's cavernous gullet. The only course of action was to get them away from the flower bed before some high official came out and made disappointed eyebrows at Spock and his reckless dog. Most _sehlat_ were well-trained and tame companions. Sure, they started out as wild, ravaging teddy bears with massive fangs and a not inconsiderable taste for blood and flesh, but Vulcans, thorough as they were, domesticated most of the insanity out of their _sehlat_ pets. But since Amanda had been mainly in charge of raising I-Chaya, she had treated the _sehlat_ more like a mutant Golden Retriever than an apex predator, and okay, I-Chaya wasn't going to rip anybody's arms off, but he certainly wasn't beyond mutilating flora.

Spock dragged the _sehlat_ inside and gave him a stern talking-to that was undoubtedly ignored. Then he got dressed while still talking to I-Chaya, who sat on Spock's bed and panted fangily at him. "This shirt?" he said, holding up a patterned black blouse. "Or this one?" The second selection was red with gray stripes. I-Chaya rolled over onto a pillow. "Yes, I do agree," said Spock musingly, putting the red shirt back. "Black tends to look better on me. But what about trousers? Gray, black, navy, plum—"

I-Chaya whined a little.

"Plum? Do you think?" Spock extracted a pair of deep purple pants from his closet. "They do go with the pattern. Or, they add something rather sophisticated, I think. Yes, it's a good match." He laid the outfit on the bed next to I-Chaya, who pawed at Spock's arm. "Oh, you _are_ a good boy," said Spock, unconsciously mimicking his mother. "Yes you are. _Yes_ you are. You are _so_ good." I-Chaya whined happily.

A few minutes later, Spock was worrying about shoes. "These or these?" he said, holding up two pairs of virtually identical loafers to I-Chaya, who raised his brows and tilted his head. "Yes, I know you think that they are indistinguishable, but this pair is older and more comfortable, but as you can tell by the rubbing on the toe, here," he put the shoe in front of I-Chaya's muzzle, "they are considerably more worn. However, this pair, which is manufactured by the same company, is a newer brand, an upgrade from the older pair. They are considerably less comfortable but—_snazzier_, if you will." I-Chaya sneezed. "I suppose you won't. Yes, I'll wear the older ones. This is only dinner, not a date."

He dressed, also spending some time on the underwear selection. "Although it is not like this choice matters," said Spock. "It did matter." He thought back to his relationship with Uhura. "You liked Nyota, did you not?" I-Chaya wrinkled his nose. "Do not be rude. She is an excellent human and friend. I do enjoy her wisdom. Men should possess the sort of senses women have. It continues to be socialized out of us, I suspect." Spock finished the last button on his shirt and turned away from I-Chaya to fetch a pair of socks. Sarek was standing at the doorway of Spock's room, apparently listening.

Spock jumped. Sarek's face went through a very small, if expressive, range of emotions. "Forgive me," said Sarek, his voice unusually textured. "I should not have intruded."

"No, I—" Spock tried to say, but Sarek shook his head.

"It is unforgivable to interrupt the sphere of privacy," said Sarek. "I simply recognized Amanda in your tone, son."

"I am sorry," said Spock, automatically.

Sarek shook his head again. "I am." Then he shook himself. "Now, in what event are you participating tonight, Spock?"

"A dinner, in the city, with friends from school," said Spock, continuing to his dresser. "I fear that it will be a popular event. Jim implied that I could call whomever I wanted to come as well."

"Jim," said Sarek, testing the name, and Spock felt a blush beginning in his cheeks. "Yes, private evenings are more generally desired."

"Even so, an opportunity to socialize is never to be wasted. Especially among human societies," said Spock. "There are so many unspoken rules to be learned and followed. It is somewhat amusing to experiment with them."

"I cannot entirely agree," said Sarek. "I find the variety of Terran social customs illogical and even somewhat intimidating, since, as you say, so many are informal law. In some cases, that which is unspoken runs stronger and deeper than that which is."

"In most cases, I would posit," said Spock, extracting the appropriate socks. "I think that it is quite frustrating to be human."

"Undoubtedly," said Sarek. "To be Vulcan is to be sure of oneself. To be human is to be always questioning."

Spock privately thought that to be Vulcan was to be deep in denial, and to be human was to be emotionally honest, but he wasn't sure that telling Sarek this would help either of them.

"I shall depart," said Spock, standing up from putting on his shoes. "I will return at a reasonable hour."

"I shall see you then," said Sarek, ushering Spock out of his room and closing his door behind him.

Spock went down and got his Volvo out of the lot. The wheel was very cold to his hands. He wished he had brought gloves. He wondered a little about seeing Kirk again; about whether or not that would be strange, about how much it would bother him that Kirk knew so much about him or if Kirk would be bothered that he, Spock, knew so much in turn. He moved his palms slowly over the wheel, trying to warm all of it up, and realized belatedly that he was better off keeping his hands on one part. When he turned, he would touch new parts, sections of the wheel not warmed by his hands, but that would be only when he turned; it would not last long, and then he would be back in a solid warmth.

x

Chapel said to Scotty, "How's the new hover car going, then?"

"Ah've yet t' recover from th' destruction of th' old one," said Scotty sadly, reaching for a pickle. Chapel had, by some miracle, caught him between sandwiches. "We should take a week off t' mourn her passin'."

"I agree," said Chapel seriously. "For one, that was just a tragic ending." She paused speculatively. "Exciting, though."

"Aye, ah did enjoy that part of it," Scotty agreed.

"And for another, it's going to be an absolute bitch building this new one, isn't it?" she said.

"Aye," said Scotty. "Aye. Th' plans are quite detailed an' ah hope that we can get th' lady finished in th' three months we've got."

Chapel sighed. "This doesn't sound like fun."

"Ach, t'will be," said Scotty, clapping her heartily on the back with the pickle. "Th' sweet taste of victory t'will be worth it. Also, th' massive scholarship."

"Oh yeah," said Chapel. "That too, definitely."

Elsewhere in the crowd, Uhura was watching Chekov and Sulu moodily. She had eaten at home—her father cooked nearly every night—and had just arrived. She had already downed half of a beer and was feeling very under the weather for some reason.

"What's up?" said Gaila, coming over and throwing her arm around Uhura's shoulders.

"I don't know," said Uhura morosely. "I'm just worried about everything, I think." Sulu kissed Chekov on the cheek and Uhura kind of felt like killing something.

"Tell me," said Gaila seriously.

"Conflict," said Uhura. "Tension. Everybody's got it. I don't know if Jim and Spock ever made up. I mean, you should have seen the issues they had. And Jim and Leo, and the Rihanh thing has just been on my mind for ages—I mean, people trying to kill us? And I'm still worked up from Friday—you know, from not knowing whether or not Jim was alive after that explosion."

"I understand," said Gaila. Uhura watched as she chewed on her lip a little. "I think—and this is a really hard thing to do, but it's served me well—but I think you just have to be how you are instead of worrying. Some people are natural worriers, and maybe you're one of them. But even if you are, I mean, and I hate to say it, but I do see that as a flaw, or as something you should work on. You just can't let other people affect you. You're the only one whose mind you really know, and so you're the thing that has to be important. Part of that is not interfering with others. Now—" She cut off Uhura, who had begun to protest. "I know you give advice to people pretty often. And I know you said some things to Spock last night about his relationship with Kirk. But that, to me, is different. If people are sure of themselves, they don't deserve to be censored. But neither of them was particularly sure. For one, they're guys. For another, they were hurting each other. There was a lot unsaid there that needed to be said." She sighed. "It's so complicated. Because I also totally see the merit of leaving things unsaid. Like, if two people really don't like each other, or if discussing something would legitimately hurt the other person—for the sake of the Thousand Gods, leave it alone. But if help can most likely be given—and you can't always predict the outcome, but that's what educated guesses are for—then by all means, give it." She was quiet for a second, and then she said, "It's best to live by that old Hippocratic rule: 'First, do no harm.'"

Uhura hadn't really expected a lecture, but it wasn't entirely unwelcome. She thought Gaila was probably right: she did worry too much. And she worried about things that definitely shouldn't have any actual impact on her life, like what other people thought about her, or what other people thought about other people, or what terrible things other people did to each other, physically or emotionally. And it was stupid.

"Okay," she said. "Gaila, seriously. That was useful." She paused. "If a little off-topic, at parts."

"I know," sighed Gaila. "I have things going on too, you know. But beyond that, I'm basically a font of wisdom and quality fashion advice. And quality sex advice! Ooh, don't forget that. Have you had very much sex lately?"

"Not a lot, actually," said Uhura. "I don't know. I'm just not feeling it."

"Acceptable," said Gaila. "Let me know if you need to feel it, though. I've been really straight recently and it's starting to bother me."

"Definitely," said Uhura. Gaila grinned and wandered off. Chekov and Sulu were still flirting with each other, but it didn't nauseate Uhura anymore. She walked over to them.

"This was a good idea," said Sulu to her, smiling. "Seriously, thank you."

"You are very welcome," said Uhura. "Done anything exciting this weekend?"

"Not a bit," said Sulu. "We watched some movies, played some games." Chekov kissed him on the cheek. "You know."

"Yes, I do," said Uhura, grinning. Over Chekov's shoulder, she saw Spock walk in to the patio area. He was dressed nicely, as usual, and looked a little greenish.

"Spock just got here," she said quietly to Sulu and Chekov, who both glanced back automatically. "Don't—act like you're looking at him!" she hissed. They both turned back around, wide-eyed. "He and Kirk—"

"Yes?" said Chekov. "Are they _finally_ togezer?"

"Nothing that major, I think," said Uhura. "But Things Were Said, you know."

"That _is_ important."

Uhura went to see Spock, who was hovering by the entrance, looking just a little scared. "Hey," she said.

"Nyota," he said, nearly smiling. "How are you?"

"I'm great," she said. "How are you?"

"Never better," said Spock. But his brow creased. "I am worried," he confessed.

"About what?" said Uhura.

"Seeing Jim again," said Spock.

Uhura still wasn't used to Spock calling Kirk _Jim_ instead of _James_. It made her smile. "Don't worry," she said. "There are things that are meant to be, conversations you're supposed to have. It's hard to live in life without going through some tough shit, and everyone knows it. You'll be fine, I promise."

"Thank you," said Spock. "I will go find him."

x

Chapel was talking to Gaila when Bones came over, and inexplicably, Gaila smiled massively at them both and excused herself. "What was that about?" said Bones, sitting down next to Chapel.

Chapel blinked. "I'm really not sure," she said, watching Gaila sashay over to Scotty, who was doing terrible things to a French dip. "How's your weekend?"

"Awful," said Bones, dire. "I've been studyin' for those tests this whole time. I think the medical studies test is goin' to kill me."

"I'm with you," said Chapel. "Want to go study somewhere quiet?"

"Not really," said Bones, "but I guess we should. How about my place? My dads're both at work and I'm pretty sure our livin' room is bigger than yours."

"Probably true," said Chapel. They made arrangements.

The parking lot was small and right next to the patio area; Chapel could see her car from her table. For some reason, it took her and Bones a long time to walk to her car. She was very aware of his presence beside him. She glanced at him, her mind filling in the details her eyes couldn't capture: his dark brown hair was combed more precisely than usual, but there was a bunch of it sticking almost straight up in the back. His knuckles were big, as were the rest of his hands; it was hard to remember that when they had dissected a cat last year, his hands had been precise, already a surgeon's, whispering the scalpel around the thoracic cavity, separating muscle cleanly from the chest wall. But the pads of his fingers were soft, and his palm was warm, smooth.

She was holding his hand.

"Oh," she said, staring. When had that happened?

He just smiled.

A year later, when they reached her parking spot, she disentangled her fingers from his, making sure to brush the tip her pointer over his cuticles, his nails, which were flat and polished with clear coat. He smiled at her more, and she had a hard time finding her keys in her pocket.

They studied for a long time. They really did study, too. They explained things to each other and did exercises and when they got bored, they watched videos and raided the fridge. When she left, she kissed him on the cheek, and they wished each other luck.

x

Kirk went inside and stood away from the crowd for a while. He liked people. He always knew what to do with them. He enjoyed talking to them and learning about them; liked the idea that they had so many secrets. He thought it was amazing that he could speak to someone, a random stranger, and learn a little of who they were. He also was intrigued by the secrets they kept. If he could stand there and be who he was without them knowing, what did that mean? Who was he to different people?

What he liked the best about people, he thought, was helping them. He had never realized this before. But most enjoyed himself when he and the hoverclub were working on the _Enterprise_. He would hand somebody a spanner or a memory chip, or install a gas line, and it felt so useful. He loved standing before them not because their attention was on them, but because he was organizing them—organizing their effort, focusing it, moving it along to a better place. He felt like a crystal that refracted light.

And then he saw Spock outside, in the crowd, saying a few words to each person he passed. Kirk watched the people greeting Spock: they all looked pleased to see him. He wondered if Spock knew he was so liked. He thought that Spock probably did not understand the impact he had on people. Spock looked away first, every time, even when he greeted Chekov, or Gaila, or Scotty.

He was not worried to see Spock again. No, the worry was pushed away by the desire to just stand next to Spock. He wanted to be in Spock's presence, in the beam of his eyes. He wanted to know Spock, know every inch of him and every synapse, every thought, every blink and twitch and breath.

Spock looked up and they saw each other through the glass. Kirk smiled easily, and Spock's face softened. Kirk went to the door and came back outside. The wind ruffled his hair. Kirk zipped up his jacket and looked around. The crowd thinned and Spock appeared again. Kirk imagined that there was a bubble of silence around them. The noise of speech went away, falling and disappearing like water from a great height.

"Hi," said Kirk.

"Hello," said Spock.

x

_Expect another chapter within the week, if not sooner, and another story (possibly two). As always, reviews are appreciated._


	44. Chapter 44: Space Seed

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Forty-Four: Space Seed_

x

_Previously on _Enterprise High:

"'I bet,' said Gaila, 'that Kirk can't keep it in his pants for a month, and Spock won't go on a date with anybody who asks him out today.' Kirk threw back his head and laughed. 'It's on.' Spock looked absolutely horrified."

"…Only six teams would move on to the final competition, which occurred in late May, smack in the middle of AP tests, finals, college acceptance deadlines, and prom. ... The really terrifying thing about the final race was that they would be building an entirely new hovercar for it. The six finalists received a large grant from the California Hovercar Junior Racing Committee to build a full-size hovercraft four times the size of a regular car. This model was to operate at a professional racing standard, and would hold anywhere from five to ten crewmembers. With the new design's size came increased capabilities: it went considerably faster than the smaller, one-man version, and one of the requirements was that the craft be spaceworthy. It was quite a lot to blueprint, build, test, and practice with in just three months."

x

The patio at Obie's was built unromantically of concrete. Five years ago a company poured six pillars and set up chicken coop fencing, which the first employees wrapped Christmas lights around the top of. The glass wall that faced the patio from the interior of the restaurant was tinted. Kirk and Spock, standing near it, could see their reflections in the corners of their eyes.

"How are you?" said Spock. He held his glass of coke lightly in both hands.

"I'm good," said Kirk, rubbing the back of his neck. He smiled almost automatically. There was softness around Spock's eyes. "I really am. I think I need to relax."

"You are generally so good at it," said Spock, sipping his Pepsi. "I think that you will have an easy time doing so."

Kirk laughed. "You think? Really? Come on, there's so much to do. I mean, it's the end of senior year. Everything is starting to happen. And it's just now nearing, um…"

"What?" said Spock.

"I completely forgot about Gaila's bet," said Kirk. "Shit."

"Have you accidentally slept with somebody recently?" said Spock, trying to act sarcastic and not like his life hinged on the answer.

"No," said Kirk quickly. Then he looked contemplative for a minute. "Oh, right, no, I really haven't. What about your dates?"

Actually, Spock had been forcefully reminded of Gaila's bet because Gaila, trying to be helpful, had set him up with a website dedicated to scheduling his ninety-four dates. If he did five a day—apparently an hour at a coffee house counted as a date to Gaila—he'd be done in a little under three weeks.

"I am due to begin them on Wednesday," said Spock. He had chosen the date arbitrarily. "They will take an unfortunate amount of time. I continue to hold you responsible for this bet."

"You're not being forced," said Kirk, amused. "It's not like Gaila'll hold a phaser to your head if you don't follow through with your part of it."

Honestly, Spock had no idea why he was doing any of this. He was completely willing to blame Kirk for it, though. "My sense of obligation combined with the fact that I deserve this entirely, having gotten myself into it by listening to you and not immediately and vociferously rejecting your idiotic plan."

"Gaila's plan. Not mine."

"I choose to place the blame on you, however," said Spock. "It is easier. And more natural."

"Can't argue with that." Kirk rubbed his neck again. "Hey, so, Bones and Christine just left to go study, so, maybe that's a good idea?"

"Yes, I should go," said Spock. He was a little disappointed that Kirk was dismissing him so easily. "I will see you tomorrow, Jim." He began to turn away.

"Woah, wait," said Kirk, hurrying forward and wrapping his hand around Spock's upper arm. "I meant, we should study together, you know?"

"Oh," said Spock. He blinked. "Why, yes, that would be a very good idea."

"Cool," said Kirk, letting Spock go and awkwardly sticking his hands in his pockets. "So, my house? It might not be great—mom and Sam and Aurelan are going to be there, but, you know." He hesitated. "I've seen your place plenty of times, but you've only been to mine… once?"

"For dinner," said Spock. "At the beginning of the school year. That was a very long time ago."

"When we hated each other, remember?" said Kirk. He laughed. "We fought the whole time."

"Yes," said Spock, remembering how his mother had smiled at Kirk. Amanda had liked him very much. He wished suddenly that he could tell her how much Kirk meant to him now. He shook his head slightly, to dislodge the memories. "You were and still are quite irritating."

"You know, I don't insult you as much as you insult me," said Kirk, arching his eyebrow at Spock. Spock arched his eyebrow right back.

"You should 'get on that,'" he said, air-quoting. "I will retrieve my study materials and see you at your residence shortly." He turned to leave.

"Deal," said Kirk, grinning. "I can't wait."

"Neither can I," said Spock over his shoulder, and was surprised that he had said that aloud.

x

Kirk nearly crashed his motorcycle into the house. He near about flung himself inside. "Mom! We have to clean the house! Right now! Mom! Seriously! Mom!"

"What are you yelling about?" Winona said from the office. "James Tiberius Kirk, are there police after you again?"

"Stop asking me that!" Kirk whined, pushing some magazines onto shelves. "Spock's going to come over to study."

"_What_?" said Winona, actually sticking her head out of the office. She caught sight of Kirk staggering by under a load of cups and dishes.

"He's going to be at the house in like ten minutes," said Kirk. "Mom, seriously. I'll—I don't know, name something you've been wanting me to do for a while, and I'll do it."

"Oh, I _will_ think of something," called Winona, bustling into the bathroom and extracting a bottle of Windex from under the sink. "I'll get you to sign a damn contract."

"Later," said Kirk. "Do we have any air freshener? I think the bread molded."

"Which bread?"

"Um, all of it."

"We should use the replicator less often," Winona muttered, spraying the toothpaste-spotted mirror. "I've got candles in my room. Don't set anything on fire!"

"Maybe!"

x

Eleven minutes later, Winona was trying to talk Kirk out of vacuuming when the doorbell rang. "Do not come out here while he's here and try to talk to us," Kirk hissed.

"Do you like him?" said Winona, highly amused. "I mean, _like_ like him? That's what's going on here, isn't it?"

"Shut up!"

Winona gasped, totally delighted. "You do! You're going to be putting your best moves on! I'll call Sam and tell him and Aurelan to come home early so Spock can meet his in-laws."

"Oh my _god_, mom, me and Spock are not getting married!" Kirk considered clawing at his face. "I may kill you. Also, _you_ are his in-law!"

"Spock and _I_," said Winona. Kirk aimed a punch at her. "Alright, alright, I'm going to my office!"

"And stay there!" pled Kirk.

He ran over to the door, paused to make sure he didn't look like he had run over to the door, then opened it calmly. "Hey," he said, totally casual.

"Greetings," said Spock, eyebrows a little more on alert than usual. "I had forgotten how far away from the school your house is."

"Yeah, it's really great on heavy-traffic mornings. Come in."

Spock stepped inside carefully. Kirk took his backpack and put it down next to the couch. "Want anything from the kitchen? Water? Milk? Cranberry juice? Her'aak?"

"Water, please," said Spock, sitting on the couch. Kirk thought all of his movements seemed rather… _prim_. He tried not to overanalyze.

"Be right back!" On his way to the kitchen he couldn't help but correct a few of the dining room chairs. Spock was making rustling noises as he got study materials out of his backpack. Kirk came back with two glasses of water and sat them on the coffee table. For a second, he hovered, not sure where to sit—on the couch next to Spock, in the armchair to their left, or maybe, on the floor? Spock glanced up, through his hair, to see why Kirk was immobile, and Kirk thought weakly that his only real option now was in Spock's lap. Or next to him. Yes, that was more appropriate.

"Are you well?" said Spock, obviously concerned. He leaned forward, the tendons in his neck flexing attractively. Kirk gulped.

"Great," said Kirk. "Shipshape. You?"

Spock eyed him. "Would you like to work on homework?"

"Yep," said Kirk. "Absolutely. So! Um, what are we working on?"

They wove through the physics and calculus homework in about two hours before digging into the readings for history, which went less smoothly than the physics and calculus because apparently they had different opinions about the Arab War. Things devolved surprisingly quickly into Spock saying things like "Excuse me, I do _not_ support colonialism" and "I did not realize that you were a terrorist sympathizer" and Kirk saying things like "Okay, we can talk about the Yishuv_ massacres_ later, then" and "God, take a film class, I was referring to the movie, not the actual Battle of Algiers."

They sat there in silence for a while, fuming slightly: nothing like the Middle East to get somebody steamed up. Finally Spock said, "I am sorry I called your mother a terrorist."

That _had_ been a low point. "And I'm sorry I called you Lawrence of Arabia," said Kirk.

"Our actions were uncalled for," said Spock. "Can I have some more water?"

Kirk laughed. "Oh, I see what the apology was for."

"My apology was entirely sincere," said Spock, handing Kirk his glass. "With an ice cube, please?"

"Just one? What are you, European?"

"Then my request would be none, I believe," said Spock. He checked the time. "Jim, we have spent thirty minutes arguing about the Arab War. We need to write the essay."

"Ugh," said Kirk. "Just… ugh. Do we have to?"

"No, you do not have to," said Spock. "You can choose not to write this essay. You would then fail the essay, which would lower your grade for history and, consequently, your GPA, which would leave me first in the class."

Kirk whipped out his PADD. "I'll just get started, then."

Spock sighed. "Jim, you must stop making such good grades. At this point, I will never be first in the class again."

"Your point being?" said Kirk. "Hey, does MLA heading go class, teacher or teacher, class?"

"Class, teacher," said Spock innocently, opening up a word processor on his own PADD.

Kirk snorted. "Dude, I just Googled it, and it's teacher, class. That was mean."

"I was going to correct you," said Spock. Kirk glared at him. "Eventually."

"Oh, I am _so_ sure. I thought Vulcans didn't lie!"

"It is not physically impossible."

"This wasn't even a good excuse for a lie!"

"Calm yourself, Jim."

"I mean, you were being actively malicious!"

"It was a joke," said Spock, his voice richly amused. "I have, as you advised, lightened up."

Kirk didn't know how to reply to that.

They were well into their third body paragraphs in little under an hour. Kirk found it weirdly easy to concentrate around Spock. Sure, he was totally distracted by just about everything Spock did, from the movement of his right pinky when he tapped delete to the moue of his lips as he focused on a particularly complicated passage. But Spock's presence was stirring. Spock was so naturally and overwhelmingly intelligent that Kirk's own intellect, cramped and unprofessional as it was, wanted to come out to play.

They finished their essays and traded them to edit, got into another miniature argument about the Middle East, and called a time-out when they realized that they hadn't even started on the English homework. "Keats?" said Spock slowly, staring at the syllabus. "'Bright Star'? 'Ode to a Nightingale?'"

"Shame that 'When I have fears' isn't on there," said Kirk. "What page in the textbook? Oh, never mind, I can search it."

"What poem is that?" said Spock, looking up at Kirk.

"Oh," said Kirk. He stared at his screen for a while. "'When I have fears that I may cease to be.' Really cheerful. Kind of my favorite poem, actually."

Spock made a small, noncommittal noise. After a while he said, "'Bright Star' seems… rather melodramatic."

"He is that, sometimes," said Kirk. "The Romantics, you know. Theatrical bunch." A while later, "The ode is good, though."

"Yes, if obviously inspired by Shakespeare," said Spock.

"I get it," said Kirk. "My taste in poets is lacking."

"I have not read your poem yet," said Spock. "But I shall look it up."

"Fine," said Kirk. "I'm going to—go get a book. Be right back." He dropped his PADD on the couch and went to his room.

Spock read the poem twice, and then he packed his backpack. He was just zipping it when Kirk came out of his room, sans book. "I should go," said Spock.

"Oh, okay," said Kirk. "Yeah, we finished, didn't we?"

"I still have some work for programming that I must complete at home, but yes, we have finished with the work required for our shared classes." Spock stood up and fitted his backpack over his shoulders. "Thank you."

"Welcome," said Kirk. "See you tomorrow." He walked Spock to the door. "Don't forget about the hoverclub meeting."

"I have not," said Spock. He hesitated on the threshold, the outside light casting his face in stark relief. But all he said was goodnight, and then he was gone into the waves.

Kirk wanted to go out and stare after him and then look into the sky for a long time, but he was tired and he'd had enough of Keats for one night, so he stayed inside and extracted his mom for her office and they watched some TV. He slept well, and dreamed of clouds.

x

The light swung over their heads. Chapel reached up to still its arc as Scotty spread the blueprints across the table. Everybody leaned in, their heads casting shadows over the blue graph paper.

"Th' bad news," said Scotty, shoulders drooped, "is that we have t' start all over. Th' requirements for th' sixth round hovercraft are that it be of a new an' original design, distinctly different from th' previous hovercraft, that it be spaceworthy, and that it be crewed."

Kirk nodded. "Are we going to crew everybody?"

"Per regulations, th' minimum is five," said Scotty. "However, there're advantages t' havin' more aboard. We'll need a pilot, navigator, commander, engineer, communicator, technician, and backup—seven. And it may be nice t'ave a second backup, considering how things've been goin' for us on th' track."

"What would our positions be?" said Kirk.

Scotty scratched his head. "Well, I've been wonderin' about that. You'd be command, Jim."

Kirk said, "Me?"

"Of course," said Spock immediately.

There was a short silence before Scotty coughed and said, "And Hikaru'd be pilot. Pavel, with his math skills an' slightly weird obsession with maps, would be navigator." Chekov looked indignant, then resigned. "Nyota'd be th' communicator, I'd be th' engineer, Spock'd be th' technician, and we can use Leo an' Christine, who've medical _an'_ mechanical skills, as backup in case of emergency."

"Backup?" grumbled Bones.

"Which job would you rather have?" said Chapel. "We're not qualified for the others. Spock's the one being shorted, if anyone is."

Spock pursed his lips, but Kirk said, "I agree. I think Spock should command."

"Jim, I absolutely insist," said Spock, looking hard at Kirk. "While I am qualified for the other jobs, I am not as qualified as anyone else. This includes you. You have proven yourself to be an excellent if eccentric captain of our team, and I have no doubt that you will make the perfect captain of this ship."

"Hear, hear," said Sulu. There was a murmur of agreement.

"Wow," said Kirk, trying not to smile. "You guys are too good to me."

"It's true," said Bones, although he then proceeded to punch Kirk on the arm.

"Okay then," said Kirk. "Where do we start?" He looked at Scotty.

"We need," said Scotty, "more o' that wonderful gurian alloy, Jim. And archanite, if you can swing it."

"Me?" said Kirk.

"Aye, you work for Gothos," said Scotty. "'Tis where we got it last time. They may still owe us a favor for savin' their arses."

Kirk sighed. "I've been on leave for two months now," he said. "They've been updating their security mainframe. But I can call my boss. She can definitely see if they've got what we're looking for." He looked down at the blueprints. "Scotty, if I'm seeing this right, we'll need about twenty times more gurian and archanite than we needed last time, right?"

"Aye," said Scotty. "Th' structure is, ah, two times th' size o' your average Starfleet shuttle. T' carry five, th' frame needs t' weigh 2,000 kF, at th' least. Addin' crew from there is just a matter of another 100 kF per person."

Uhura whistled. "This thing isn't going to fit in the garage. Have we considered that?"

They hadn't. "Maybe we could rent a building," Chapel suggested. "The grant we got from the Racing Committee should cover the cost of an empty building for a few months."

"How are we gonna do this in three months?" Bones demanded. "I don't know about y'all, but I've got homework, college applications, AP tests, you name it."

"And prom," Sulu put in. Spock looked like he wanted to roll his eyes.

"Think about buildin' a house," said Scotty. "We start with th' frame an' work outward. The frame's easy t' put together—it'll take mayhap a week or so, dependin' on when we get that material. Th' engines'll take th' longest—we should test for at least a fortnight before th' race. Even if we 'ave little as two months t' work on th' engines, we'll finish."

"God, this is going to be time-consuming," said Chapel, rubbing her cheeks. "Are these finalized plans, Scotty?"

"Tried an' true," said Scotty proudly. "Ah've been compilin' 'em since th' beginnin' o' th' year. Finished th' tests before Christmas."

"You are an engineering god," said Kirk. "Where'd you find the time?"

"Ah'm not as obsessed with grades as you lot," said Scotty. "Got a few ninety-fives. Ah figure, if we win this, colleges'll be snappin' us right up."

"I think Starfleet already wants you as an officer," said Sulu. "Scotty, this really is incredible. Genius, really—how'd you come up with running the hydrogen through the Blanken router?"

"Oh, 'tis theoretical, but th' sim said it'd work," said Scotty. "More fun t' fly by th' seat o' your pants, aye?"

Spock and Bones for once agreed with each other. "I would not say so," Spock said at the same times Bones stated, "We're not gonna be flyin' theoretically, Scotty, we're gonna be flyin' _actually_."

"Oh, I'm sure it'll work," said Kirk, grinning around at everybody. "If the computer says it will, then it will."

"Great leadership skills," muttered Bones.

"Let's go scout out a garage," said Uhura. "I've got a car—who needs a ride?"

The hoverclub spent the rest of the afternoon driving back and forth between two garages, one of which was smallish but nicely located, and the other of which was huge but nowhere near a coffee place. Bones and Chekov had a small-scale war over which one to choose and eventually it came to a vote: the large garage, in an Elizabeth Street shopping center, won seven-to-one, Chekov having promised to regale them with songs about the Motherland the next time he was drunk in order to win their votes. Kirk called Pike, who signed the paperwork immediately, and suddenly they had a place to work.

The garage was at the back of the shopping center. It was three stories tall and five wide, with built in steel tables around the edges, plenty of power strips, and two bathrooms down a hallway. It was old: the lights had a dial that Kirk searched out and turned, slowly, so that the sun rose in the big concrete chamber, lights halfway up the wall and tiling the ceiling humming to life as he turned his hand. The hoverclub stood around the walls, leaning against the steel tables. Kirk walked to the center and faced all of them.

"I'm not a good enough leader to give a speech right now," said Kirk, sticking his hands in his pockets. "But I will say this: building this thing is gonna suck. It's gonna be slow and frustrating and we won't feel like we're getting anything done. But in three months, we will be finished, and we will have on our hands a state-of-the-art hovercraft that is going to blow the competition out of the sky. And it's all going to be because of you guys."

"Hear, hear," said Bones. Most of the club gave a little cheer. Kirk grinned at all of them, and focused on Spock, who smiled a real smile at him.

"And now," said Kirk, "can we please go home and get some sleep before the torture begins again tomorrow."

"Hear, hear," said Bones again.

x

That night, Uhura was drifting off to sleep when her phone buzzed. Gaila had sent her a late text about a homework problem. She replied and closed her eyes again, but wasn't sleepy anymore.

Uhura was impatient. After a few minutes, she got up and put her slippers on. She sat on the edge of her bed for a while, trying to be tired. The rest of the house was dark: her father was an early riser and was generally asleep by ten thirty. She opened her door and padded down the stairs to the kitchen.

She sat at the kitchen table drinking cranberry juice and thinking about calculus for a while. Calculus was boring, though, and her attention wandered. On the far wall was a picture of Uhura as a baby. It was actually three photographs, taken in succession: in the first Uhura was looking at the camera, expressionless. In the second, she had begun to smile. In the third, she was grinning full-out.

Uhura put her glass in the sink and went into the living room. She pulled up the photo server and sat there, flicking through photographs from her childhood. Her mother was generally the one taking pictures, so it was mostly Uhura and her father, always smiling. Sometimes her mother appeared, playing with a toy or holding Uhura in her arms. Uhura paused on those. Her mother was always dressed nicely, like she had just gotten home from work. She remembered vaguely that her mother had worked all the time, back then.

She put the server to sleep and went into her mother's office, which hadn't changed since her mother's death. The cleaning bots kept it free of dust, but the air smelled different in this part of the house: Uhura and her father only went into the room on her mother's birthday. They would come and sit in the two chairs across from the desk and talk to each other about her, what they remembered and liked and didn't like. This time, Uhura went behind the desk and sat in her mother's chair, which was thin and sparsely padded, but ergonomical. She opened all of the drawers and looked through the papers and PADDs her mother had left. She had memorized all of them, from the little post-its about bills and shopping to the three thick, titanium hard drives that were keyword protected. Uhura had tried to hack into them but had never been able.

As always, Uhura got out the leather-bound notebook hidden in the back of the deepest drawer. Itidal Kabwegyere had been a terrible artist. Uhura smiled at her mother's attempts to draw human faces and animal bodies. The first ten pages or so of the notebook were full of scratchy figures with weird anatomy and terrible shading. The rest was empty, except for the last page, on which her mother had written two riddles:

_You do not catch it chasing it. It is here. Take it._

and

_Wherever I go, it follows me close. _

"The sun," said Uhura softly. "The shadow."

She closed the book and put it back. She was about to close the drawer and leave when she saw one of the hard drives again. Without thinking much of it, she plugged it in to the monitor in the room. The keyword came up, cursor flashing. Uhura typed in, as a password, _sun_.

The screen was still for a moment, then faded and flickered to another screen, which wanted another password. Uhura gasped. _Shadow_, she typed, and the screen faded to show the hard drive's contents.

It was empty except for a photograph of Uhura and her father. For a moment Uhura was disappointed. Then she felt like she was going to cry.

She enlarged the photograph. She loved this one. She and her father were in the library. Uhura was reaching for a book on the third shelf, which was a little taller than she was, and her father was bending down to help her with it.

Then Uhura saw that something was different. She could read the spines of the books on the shelves, and there was a book in the photograph that wasn't in the photograph she was used to seeing. It was a large green book on the fifth shelf, entitled _Kupenda_. She looked closer at the photograph: the book had been photoshopped into the photograph. It had been done just well enough to look natural, but just badly enough to be obviously an edit.

Uhura looked around the room. There were a few books, but none of them were big and green. She looked everywhere in the office, but didn't see it. She went back to the library but it wasn't there.

Then she paused and went back to the office again. _Kupenda_. She sat down at the desk and stared at it. There was a paperscreen stuck onto the top, and a thick-based lamp on the corner. She put the lamp on the floor and peeled the paperscreen off. The top of the desk was blank. _Kupenda_. That was so familiar. If she said it to her father he'd know why it was familiar. _Kupenda_. It was the Swahili word for _love_, but it was something else, too. _Kupenda_. Oh. _Right_. Obviously!

She pulled out the top drawer on the right, the one that held the hard drive. It was small, only twice the size of her hand, and deep. She pulled everything out of it, took it out of its recess, and flipped it over. There, on the bottom of the drawer, was the maker's stamp: _Baas Kupenda_, _March 2178_, and a seam around the two-inch square maker's stamp which she picked at until it came loose and fell off into her hand. She turned the block of wood over. In a recess built into the drawer, under a clear plastic screen, was a tiny green datachip.

Uhura took it out and plugged it into the monitor.

x

_I don't know if I've mentioned this here, but I really should: this story is going to be fifty-one chapters long—there are only seven more chapters to go. _


	45. Chapter 45: The Conscience of the King

**A/N: **So I spent my summer mourning dead pets—rest in peace, Bear and Cassie—trying to deal with my awful aunt, avoiding panic attacks, starting (shockingly effective) psychiatric medication, realizing that I have no money for college, (thus) negotiating with financial aid, getting crawled on by scorpions oh god, and reading seventy-six books for my thesis. Least relaxing summer ever and I didn't even have a job. And so, in this momentary lull at the beginning of the year, I give unto you readers this chapter.

There seem to be fears that this won't finish due to the length between update times. I've been working on this for, oh god, over two years now, and I have no plans to _not_ finish this. Actually, I have the last chapter already written. However, I am doing approximately fourteen shit-tons of academic writing this year thanks to my honors program, along with applying for grad school, so, you know, this will update again… some time.

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Forty-Five: The Conscience of the King_

x

Uhura didn't go to sleep that night.

By the time the dawn came, she had torn the house apart and was laying half-on the couch with a twenty year old atlas, a plastic toy cactus, the two hard drives she hadn't yet accessed, and a glass of rum resting comfortably on her chest. Her eyes were unfocused and she was drooling a little.

When she had plugged the tiny green datachip into the monitor, a message box had appeared. The text, in Swahili, read, _Nyota, please locate and insert the other two datachips. —Itidal. _"_What_?" Uhura had yelled at the screen. "Fuck! Come on!" She'd hit her hand on the desk and probably broken a finger. Her knuckle still hurt a little.

Uhura spent the rest of the night frantically searching their house for clues. She figured that the other two hard drives had the same two-password system. She'd tried all the passwords she could think of, but there was a time delay—after entering three wrong passwords, she was locked out of the system for five minutes; after ten wrong passwords, she was locked out for an hour.

The atlas had been one of her mother's favorite possessions, but there were no notations in its margins. The plastic toy cactus—also disappointingly unmarked—had gathered dust on their mantel for years; Uhura vaguely remembered her father saying that her mother had won it, as a child, at a fair. The rum was because, well, she felt like some rum. She sipped it dispassionately. Where on Earth else could her mother have left clues?

She heard soft noises from the direction of her father's bedroom and tossed back the rest of the rum hastily, then hid the glass behind the sofa. By the time Chane came out of his room in pajama bottoms, Uhura had the atlas spread over the table and was acting like the entry on Greater Cairo was utterly fascinating. Chane peered at her over the kitchen counter. "Nyota? You're up early."

"Yeah, set my alarm wrong," said Uhura casually. "Good morning." Chane needed to leave or look away before she could go; she hadn't had time to put the hard drives in her pocket and it would be impossible to do so without him seeing. "What time is it? I should take a shower."

"Six fifteen," said Chane, turning on the coffee maker. "Want a cup?"

"Oh, please," said Uhura. She vacillated for a moment. "Any plans for the day?" she asked finally, closing the atlas.

"Bank, breakfast, class," said Chane, turning his back to her to get coffee cups out of the upper cabinets. "The usual." Uhura hurriedly stuffed the hard drives into her pocket. Luckily they were the size of her palm, and the thickness. She stood up and put the cactus back on the mantel. Chane was pouring cream into the cups as she walked through the kitchen.

"I'm going to shower," said Uhura, kissing Chane on the cheek. "Leave mine in the machine, yeah?"

"I will," said Chane, smiling.

x

Spock had come home soon after Kirk's speech to the hoverclub and worked on homework all through dinner. Now, he was about to go to bed. It was very cold in his room. He put his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes. His eyelids felt heavy, from the bottom up. He could feel a thick line of ache in his forehead, creeping downwards, into his eyes, and out and around his skull.

Tension had been building inside of him all day. He felt sick. It was a special kind of sick. His stomach hurt and his throat hurt, and the line of ache in his forehead didn't spread, but it deepened, like a knife pushing farther into flesh. There was a flash of fire around him and a disappearing hand. He felt the floor give again, saw her fall, saw the blazing, saw the deep void in the brightness of the flame.

He only let it hurt him sometimes. There were so many hurts that he had to take them one at a time. The flames singed him, the leaving hand tore at his heart and went away with a bit of it, a bit of it he'd never get back. Then the flames left. Sometimes he pushed the memories away with his very hands. Sometimes he looked away from them, like he was ashamed. And he was ashamed.

There was his brother, there he wasn't; that hurt was almost over. It was a big scar on his back, not raw anymore, but of course it ached. He thought back to when his body was wrong, too, and he touched his chest to make sure, and smiled when he found flat muscles, closed his eyes at the feel of coarse hairs. That was a thing that only hurt because of the Vulcans.

But the Vulcans were another hurt too. He was a part of them; he always would be. They had given him so much. And he loved what they had given him, most of the time. He had become so much of what they wanted. But when he had left them—and he had, really, left them—they had hated it, hated him. They didn't understand. They had just ruined him, torn off bits of him and tried to keep him. But he had grown back, hadn't he. He was healed now, and strong. That hurt was a scar too, but a smaller one, more intricate, and closer to the surface. This scar was on his face.

And Nero. His final regret. Nero nagged at him the least, but horrified him the most. Everything else was ended. The consequences went on, of course, but Nero, of everything and everyone else, was still there, physically, standing sometimes in his line of sight. At first Spock had not felt anything, but the poison had started to spread. It was _something_ to be hated. He didn't know what. Being hated was… it was like standing in a field of flowers and watching someone kill a dog. It was like being shown the entrails and excrement of your life. There was just enough truth mixed in with the hatred that all of the hatred seemed real. Read the screaming bold text between the lines and it looks like it's your fault. With Nero, the void wasn't veiled by fire. The void was right there. The hatred was acid in his stomach and in his eyes, all over his hands and eating, eating away. It hurt so much and so differently. All of the other times he had been a victim. But he was quietly uncertain now. What had he done? What was he responsible for? And the uncertainty burrowed into his brain and made a nest. The eggs hatched; the monsters grew. They breathed fire around his skull and scratched his eyes out. He pulled his forehead away from the wall.

He stood there and then staggered to the bed. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know if he should look away or if he should just deal with it or if he should talk to somebody or what. If he looked away, he was a coward—but he didn't mind being a coward—but what if Nero came back? What if Nero stood in his line of sight again? He'd been arrested, but Spock knew he'd be back. What would he do when he saw Nero standing there, no weapons, just the great black beam of his hatred, the invisible power that was stronger than anything Spock had yet encountered. He couldn't just look away. So he had to deal with it.

But he couldn't deal with it. He simply could not. He realized he'd been not thinking about Nero. Because whenever he tried to deal with it, his body wouldn't let him. It'd rebel, get sick, make excuses, and finally run away. And what good did it do to deal with it? He couldn't go find Nero, and even if he did, he couldn't talk sense into him—nor would Spock want to talk sense into Nero. Nero had killed his _mother_: he could not be forgiven. Words would do nothing. And actions—those, he could not take. What would he do? Kill Nero? Unthinkable. Spock had never been built for revenge. Play mind games with him? Well, how, for one, and why, also? That would be becoming him; that was one thing Spock did not want.

The only conclusion he could come to was that it was a terrible thing to be hated, and that he wanted desperately to avoid it in the future. Another thing he knew was that he would get over all of this. Time had already healed so many of his wounds. It was the truest cliché he knew, Spock realized. Time was the great doctor of the world, the best antibiotic and nepenthe there was. And the final thing he saw was a face. He turned on his side and checked his PADD for emails and found three from Kirk, all useless bits of chat saying things like "do you think we have time for coffee tomorrow after school i may not be able to work on the hover without consuming at least three pints" and "i swear to god the mold on the bathtub is sentient now i think it was laughing at my loofah earlier" and "have you ever noticed how dangerous on-demand is when you have a lot of homework to do?" Spock smiled again and curled up in the dark. The rich moon shone through the slit in the curtain, and the shadows, for once, were soft and sweet. There was, he felt, love like a shield around him, and it gave him a weapon of strength. He fell into a haze like warm arms and was asleep soon after, the void disappointed and the moonlight strong.

x

The shower simultaneously tired out and invigorated Uhura. For a while, she was afraid that the finger of rum she'd consumed was going to be a problem, yet the steam steadied her, and washing her face helped her feel alive. She was clean and new. But like she always felt when she hadn't had enough sleep, it was as if the world was brighter and flatter than usual. Sound was fast, but her eyes were slow. And her hands were cold. She rubbed them in her towel.

Chane was reading a book and drinking coffee when she emerged, dressed, from her room. She drank her coffee as she packed her bag for school. She stood next to the kitchen island for a second, holding her coffee midair and staring off into the distance. Then she put her things down, went back in to her room, put the tiny green chip in a box and put the box in her pocket, along with the two hard drives.

x

At lunch, with the hoverclub (plus Gaila) gathered around, Uhura spread the chip and hard drives out over the table and told them the story.

Chekov noticed how her hands trembled as she touched the chip. He was sitting diagonal from her, and he saw how large her eyes were. Sound was not as distinct. When Uhura finished the story, everyone but Chekov had ideas—they could search her house, they could look at other books and photos, they could help, what was she doing after school? Uhura replied to everyone coherently, but her mouth did not move as much as it normally did. Chekov thought that was a strange reaction to have, but what reactions weren't odd?

It took a long time for the bell to ring. Uhura's hands were shaking hard by the time it did. Chekov let her hurry out of the caf, then followed her. She was standing in a dark corner next to some trophy cases, her arms around herself.

"I am so sorry," said Chekov, wishing he could hug her. "I haf lost my mother also." He did not know what else to say.

"It's not them," said Uhura. "I mean—I didn't know I would react like this. It's weird hearing everybody talk about her." She wiped her eyes. "It's not just a mystery."

"They do not understand," said Chekov.

"No, it's—I mean, it's definitely not their fault. They weren't flippant." She was right. The hoverclub had been perfectly serious about finding the other chips. But there had been something in their tone that was more curious than sympathetic.

"I can talk to them for you," Chekov offered.

"Oh, I'll do that," said Uhura. "Don't worry." She felt steely again, all of a sudden. She did need their help and impartiality. Obviously, the bulk of the clues would lie in things only Uhura could know—why else would Itidal have addressed the message to her? But Uhura needed some original, outside of the box thinking to get those clues together. She did need them and their curiosity. As long as she had Chekov's sympathy, she'd be fine.

x

Fine has varying definitions. Uhura genuinely was for the rest of the day. The hoverclub had made plans to come over to her house after their meeting, which went well. As they were trudging to their cars, Spock came jogging over to her.

"Pavel mentioned…" he said, and trailed off uncharacteristically. There was real pain in his eyes.

"Oh," said Uhura. "Yeah. Listen, it's okay. I was going to talk to everyone about it when we got to my house."

"I am sorry," said Spock. "Nyota, I am very sorry."

There was a strong flicker of something warm in her. She put her hands on his shoulders. He was so hot—his skin was fiery. "Spock," she said. Her hand, of its own accord, went around the nape of his neck. "It's okay. Don't worry about. I'm fine, and I understand."

He touched his forehead to hers, lightly. Then he backed away, nodded once, and went to his car.

Across the lot, Kirk looked away.

x

"I was four," said Uhura.

They'd had the doors open for an hour. The office smelled like the rest of the house now. She was leaning her left hand on the desk and holding one of the hard drives in her right hand.

"I'm not going to say much," she went on, keeping her eyes on the hard drive. "I simply want you all to know that yes, parts of this are a game, parts of this are an adventure, parts of this are a mystery. There have been puzzles and guns and fast cars. But." She looked at them, one at a time. "I don't know how many people have died because of Nero, and because of what he believes in. My mother, Spock's mother, Jim's father—and that's just within our families. There are more. Like I said, I don't know how many more."

Uhura put the hard drive down and held her hands at the small of her back.

"We need to keep the death toll down. We need to get to the bottom of this. We need to find out all of what's going on and deal with Nero. We need to be serious. We need to be safe. We need to understand that this isn't a game."

She looked at each of them again. "Okay," she said. "Let's get started."

x

Chane wasn't getting home until late that night, so they went through Uhura's house with a fine-toothed comb.

Uhura sat in the living room, writing down places for people to look, while everyone else searched the house. Of course, they kept coming to her with questions—the point of Itidal's exercise had been to code something only Uhura would know. "What if you were to move?" Spock asked at one point. "How could Itidal assume that you would not?" Uhura explained that the house had been in their family for nearly a century and the likelihood of their moving was small, especially considering her father's tenure, but she sent them to look in the attic and other places that would need to be cleaned out in case of a move after that.

Chapel and Chekov went for pizza at seven, much to Sulu's delight. Uhura discovered she was starving and ate half a Hawaiian. "We should probably stop soon," she said, pouring herself some Dr. Pepper. "I should work on homework, you know."

"We all should," sighed Sulu. "The teachers are really gearing up for AP testing."

Chekov made a face. "I do not even haf time to catch up on my shows."

"Speaking of, has anyone seen the latest Doctor Who?" said Gaila.

"Yes!" said everyone, and the conversation devolved into an intense discussion of the Twenty-Ninth Doctor's relationship with her newest companion.

It was pleasant being distracted. Uhura let her gaze wander, watching Sulu and Chekov press their forearms together, moving in synchrony without realizing they were. Kirk and Spock were nearly the same, but their movements were less automatic; they were almost copying each other, creating a funny repeating pattern of hand gestures and facial movements. Uhura had read about couples mimicking each other physically, and it amused her to see the theory at work in real life.

The other things she noticed were abstract. The light playing across Chapel's face, illuminating her lashes; the way the bones stuck out in Gaila's wrist.

When everyone was leaving, she asked Gaila and Chapel to stay for a little while.

x

It was late, but they didn't feel like going home. Kirk and Spock went back to the rented garage and unpacked.

The hoverclub had spent a few hours moving crates and boxes into the new space, and the work area was shockingly disorganized. Scotty, who was probably the messiest person Kirk knew, had partially unpacked a third of the boxes and scattered the contents all over the room. He'd been searching for a spanner or something, but that had turned into a quest for dilithum crystals. "I hate dilithium crystals," muttered Kirk, pushing a toolbox out of the way of his feet.

"Excuse me?" called Spock from across the room. He had already imposed order on a smallish area of chaos. Kirk was still trying to figure out where to start.

"I hate dilithium crystals," Kirk repeated, turning around to move a stack of paper. "They always cause problems. They're hard to find and they're impossible to recharge and—_OOMPH—_"

Kirk tripped hugely over a pile of cords and smacked wrists-first into the ground. The papers went everywhere, rather gracefully.

Kirk had been falling with increasing frequency for the past year, probably because he had a billion things on his mind other than balancing (important as that was). But falling is not something you get used to. He lay on the floor for a second, trying to figure out how much his hands hurt and if he could actually bend his right knee and how he had caught himself rather than shattering his nose on the concrete. There was the noise of panicked movement as Spock wove hurriedly through the boxes, finally dropping to his knees next to Kirk.

"Are you harmed?" Spock demanded, checking Kirk's pulse and touching Kirk's skull. "Is anything broken? Are you concussed? What is today's date?"

"Calm down," Kirk implored of the floor. "I'm fine. I just, you know, my bones are dying a little. Ow."

"Is anything broken," Spock repeated, so dire it wasn't even a question.

"No, and back off," snapped Kirk.

Spock went all silent and offended and Kirk tried really hard not to roll his eyes. His palms had that dull, impacted feeling that they got whenever they saved you from certain disfiguration, and his knee was definitely pissed at him.

"Sorry, just, didn't I break my thumb like a fucking week ago?" Kirk sighed. He turned over and lay on his back on the floor, Spock still looming half-nervously, half-irritably at the corner of his vision. "I am not this clumsy. I'm not."

"There were many obstacles," Spock tried, apparently not angry anymore.

"Yeah, but you know," said Kirk. He sat up and rolled his wrists around, trying to get the weird feeling out of his hands. "I think my arms are shorter."

"That is illogical," said Spock. "An impact such as this—"

"Spock," laughed Kirk. "I'm fine. Stop being worried."

Sometimes it seemed like Spock knew so little about emotion that his face was a canvas for it. Kirk had spent a lot of time thinking about Vulcans and emotions and he had come to the conclusion that there was a big difference between knowing your emotions and not knowing them. He suspected that Spock's method of expressing himself was simply _not_ to, which meant that he'd accidentally do it quite a lot anyway. After all, if someone has nothing to say and is in a bad mood, it doesn't mean that nobody notices when they don't talk—it means that everybody notices when they don't talk. What's said is as important and as obvious as what's unsaid. And the way Spock didn't say things was something Kirk was getting really good at discerning.

They looked at each other, and Kirk thought, getting lost in Spock's face. He could feel his fingers running underneath Spock's upswept brows. He sort of knew what Spock's skin felt like from casual touches, so the imaginary feeling under his fingertips was a composite texture, like his own skin and like the skin of all of the other people he'd touched, but with that extra foreign spark; it was strange how everyone's skin felt different. Like they were all from different planets. Like every human was their own little world.

It was a stupid, Austen-esque thing, jam-packed with cliché, but Spock really did drive him crazy and Spock really did turn him on in horrendously equal proportions. Kirk loved him and he hated him and he was more exasperated by him than anything. And Spock had these eyes that were like magnets or something, maybe like a lake or a soft flame: they were undeniable and enrapturing.

Spock blinked those eyes, a closed expression flickering across his face, and moved back slightly, an awkward motion that jerked Kirk back to life. Kirk raised his eyebrows at Spock in a sort of "Well, what now?" way, and Spock shook himself and stood up.

"If you are uninjured, let us continue organizing," said Spock. He proffered his hand to Kirk to help him up.

They went quickly back to their separate areas and worked. The conversation wasn't stilted, really, but Kirk thought things took longer to say.

For the first time, Kirk really considered what it would be like to date Spock. As he unpacked, he imagined asking Spock out. Would he just say something? He tried to imagine going up to Spock and proposing a date. Technically, he had already asked Spock on a date. But that was a little different than asking him _to date_. Actually that was really different. That was like the difference between fucking someone and making love to them.

He imagined walking with Spock in school, having dinner with him, kissing him. He imagined smiles just for him.

Kirk looked at over at Spock, who was in profile, and actually opened his mouth. _Would you like to go out with me?_ It was in his head, moving down his brain stem and into his throat. It was at the back of his tongue, at the tip. Then he swallowed it down and turned back to his work in the silence.

"Do you have plans for spring break?" Spock asked abruptly.

Kirk stared at him. "I don't think so," he said slowly, trying to remember if his mother had mentioned anything about a possible vacation. "Do you?"

"My father is travelling to Risa for a conference, and offered to let me bring a… friend," said Spock. "We would be on Risa for seven days."

"Oh, my God," said Kirk, dropping a hammer. "_Risa_? Are you kidding me?"

"If you are offended—"

"Nonononono," Kirk exclaimed. "No, that sounds amazing! I would love to go! Spock, thank you _so much_. This is awesome!"

Spock looked pleased. "I am glad that you would like to accompany me."

"This is gonna be _awesome_," Kirk said, mainly to himself. "Risa! I am pretty sure they've outlawed _clothes_ there! Have you heard about the Risans? And the sex rituals? Spock, seriously. This is _awesome_."

"You have already said that," Spock pointed out.

"Totally bears repeating," said Kirk. "What's the conference your dad's going for?"

"The Intergalactic Humanitarian Organization's annual conference," said Spock. "Risa was a… rather controversial choice."

"But a damn good one," laughed Kirk. He paused, suddenly worried. "Do I—should I pay anything? Because—"

"Oh, no," said Spock quickly. "The travel funds have already been released and there is quite enough money for all of us. You will not have to pay anything."

"Good," said Kirk, trying not to look relieved.

"I will email you the itinerary," said Spock. "You and I should be free to explore Risa on our own. Father will be in conference all day. But we are invited to the banquets at night."

"Spock, this sounds great," said Kirk. "But I have a really important question: how many nightclubs can we go to? Are you into clubbing? Also, strip clubs. And bars. How do you feel about those?"

Kirk spent the rest of their time at the garage quizzing Spock about his leisure habits and trying to convince him that, since the Intergalactic Leisure Protection Act, strip clubs had seriously cleaned up their operations. It was dark by the time they left, and Kirk had convinced Spock to visit three nightclubs, two bars, and maybe a strip club, although Spock was still holding out for visiting the Risan National Library instead. Spring break, which was in less than a month, already looked quite promising.

x

_I do have a bit of free time at the beginning of the semester, and, uh, hint hint, I am statistically more likely to write when I get reviews. Oh man this next chapter is gonna be fun_


	46. Chapter 46: The Menagerie

**A/N: **Okay, I just want to complain real quick about being sick, y'all can skip this: apparently, oh joy and rapture, I have mono (and so does my girlfriend, oops). BLERG. Did you know that when you have mono, you cannot: make out with other people (obviously), play sports, lift things, or _drink_—for like _three months?_ You cannot consume alcohol or your liver will explode. (Well not really but _basically_.) This is _bad_. I don't think it's possible to write a thesis without getting wasted _at least_ once a week. Also the lymph node right underneath my chin is the size of a grape right now, oh _god_. … However this does mean that I have, like, free time? Which uh admittedly I have been watching Avatar: The Last Airbender in instead of doing, you know, useful things, but hey. (PS: _I am Sokka_. We're like the _exact same person_, it's creepy.)

Reviews do make me update faster! (And uh also being sick, but _don't cheer for that_.) Thank y'all so much. God this is a fun chapter. But I have a serious thing to say first.

Since I last posted, another of my pets, Emma, has passed away. Bear, my beloved thirteen year-old dog was euthanized in early August due to complications arising from old age. Cassie, my whip-smart one year-old cat, was let outside one night a few weeks ago and never came back. And Emma, my crazywonderful six year-old cat, succumbed to an infection a few days ago. I miss them all so much and I just wanted to take this time to remember them. I still have Aspen, the sweet miniature schnauzer we adopted the day Bush was inaugurated; Chuck, Cassie's brother and the friendliest, sleepiest cat to ever nap on this earth; and Reed (named after _Reed v Reed_ because my girlfriend Jane is a pre-law feminist), the cutest goddamn cat on the planet, who was found wandering the mean streets of a small town in north Texas. If you've also lost pets and want to commemorate them, or if you want to just talk about the pets you have, you can send me a message or leave it as a review, and I'll reply to everyone. I'd love to hear about your experiences with your pets.

And with that sober comment, on to the SEX. Everybody should have a threesome at some point in their lives; they are really wonderful and surprisingly non-awkward if you do it right!

x

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Forty-Six: The Menagerie_

x

Statistically, Uhura was an average seventeen-year-old Terran. She'd had sex with probably ten people in her life—she took a moment to count—no, nine. That wasn't considering a lot of the other things she'd done. But this had been her first experience with a threesome.

Uhura had a queen size bed in her room because she liked to stretch out, but that morning, with Gaila and Chapel sandwiching her, she couldn't exactly spread her limbs around.

She struggled out of bed and went to the bathroom to stare at herself in the mirror. Her hair was insane. She attacked it into a ponytail and brushed her teeth. Then she peeked back into her room. Chapel's leg was hanging off the bed and Gaila had drooled all over her pillow. Uhura had had people sleep over before, but not, you know, _two_ people. She dithered, unsure of what to do.

Finally, she went to make breakfast. But the replicator wasn't working again and neither she nor Chane had gone grocery shopping recently, so she just poured some orange juice and brought it back to her room. Chapel and Gaila were still asleep. She put the juice down on her nightstand rather harder than she would have out of nervousness and Gaila blinked awake.

"Oh, hey," she said sleepily, sitting up on her elbow, her breasts popping out from under the covers. Uhura stared at them. "Ooh, orange juice, hand it to me."

Uhura passed over the glass noiselessly. Chapel let out a snore. Gaila laughed quietly. "Are you going to wake her up?" she asked, drinking half the juice.

"I don't know," said Uhura uncomfortably, hugging her arms across her chest.

Gaila peered at her. "Are you okay? You look weird."

"No, I'm fine, I just haven't done this," said Uhura. "There are _two_ of you."

Gaila stared at her. "I don't get it."

"You wouldn't," Uhura sighed. "I'm sorry. This shouldn't be weird. And it's not! Because that, last night, that was _really_ great. Like really." She paused for a moment to remember how great it had been. It had been really great. "But, I don't know—it's so _different_, with three people. I didn't realize _how_ different it was."

Gaila pulled the sheet back over her chest, sensing Uhura didn't need nipples at the moment (which wasn't something she understood, but hey, she knew had people had different points of view on things). "I think I understand. Let me tell you something I learned in my medical class," she said. "Pretty recently, it was scientific consensus that monogamy was a good thing and polygamy was a bad thing. We've only gotten beyond that in the past couple of years. But it makes sense that you feel strange about threesomes. They're really emotionally different from twosomes."

"I know that," said Uhura patiently.

"Yeah, but there's a difference between knowing things and _knowing_ things," said Gaila. "What's really making you uncomfortable?"

Chapel woke up, turned over, and started listening to the two of them. Uhura frowned. "I guess it's because… I mean, it's more spread out, you know? A threesome. And there's less opportunity for it to be emotional. If the sex is just casual."

"A lot of people still aren't quite in love with the idea of casual sex," Chapel put in. "If I may. The people who attribute extreme emotional importance to sex, or who are sexually conservative, tend to disapprove. They think casual sex devalues, well, non-casual sex."

Gaila's eyes narrowed. "I _loathe_ that argument. The people who say that type of thing just don't get casual sex, I swear. Sex is a _fun thing_. But, no, wait, that's not even accurate. Sex is exactly what people say it is. So if you have Person A saying that _they_ think sex shouldn't be casual, then good for them! They shouldn't have casual sex. But a lot of times you get them saying to Person B, 'don't have casual sex,' even if Person B is down with and capable of casual sex."

"So apparently what you're facing is continual societal pressures to feel bad about casual threesomes," said Chapel to Uhura, grinning. "Trust Gaila to get all theoretical over orgasms."

"They're the best things to get theoretical about," Gaila pouted.

"I know," Chapel laughed. "Just—don't hate on Person A too much, okay?"

"No, I know not to," said Gaila, nodding. "It's just hard because it's the Persons A that are generally so judgy about slutiness. I just have _such_ a hard time understanding how orgasms are a _bad _thing."

"You are not the only one," said Uhura. She went over to the nightstand and handed the remaining orange juice to Chapel, who drained it. "You guys want to go out for breakfast?"

"Oh my god, I am starving," said Chapel, jumping out of bed and looking around for her underwear.

Gaila pouted. "But I don't want to put clothes on."

"You're always like that," Chapel pointed out, snapping her bra on. "Tough it up."

Gaila sighed dramatically and looked around for her clothes. Uhura took the now empty orange juice glasses back into the kitchen and leaned against the counter for a moment, smiling. Weird how theorizing could make her feel so much better.

x

_Risa_, Kirk read. _The pleasure planet._

_Terraformed in the early 1900s as the result of a sexually explicit contract between the Orion government and native Risans, the nicknamed "pleasure planet" has since become a universally popular tourist destination. Starfleet's official Shore Leave Offices are located on Risa, as are the headquarters of four thousand nine hundred and twenty-six interplanetary cruise, dancing, touring, exploring, adventuring, drinking, and party businesses. Festivals such as Lohlunat (the Festival of the Moon), Jamaharon Sala'aris (the Major Consummation Rite), and Haliak-Hoa (the Beach Run) draw millions of tourist every solar year. But it is the nightclubs that truly attract Risa's tourists. _

From there, the travel guide went into detailed descriptions of the top 100 best nightclubs. Kirk highlighted every other one of them, salivating. He was sitting in Mr. Maru's nearly empty English class before first period, focusing intently on the PADD in front of him. When Bones walked into the room and sat down next to him, Kirk didn't even look over.

"What's got you so focused?" said Bones, pulling his phone and PADD out of his bag. "Tentacle porn? A new food erotica show?"

"Risan nightclub reviews," said Kirk reverently.

"Oh, same difference," said Bones. "How's that plan goin'?"

"Plan?" said Kirk, looking up in confusion. "I have no plan."

"You should get one together," said Bones, checking his watch and deciding to go to the restroom before class. "You gotta seduce Spock some time. Better on Risa."

"_What?_" said Kirk, but Bones was already getting up to leave.

"He has a point," said Janice Rand, who was filing her nails a few seats away.

"You're not even in this conversation!" Kirk yelled.

"But you _should_ have a plan," said a guy from across the room that Kirk didn't even know.

"Oh my god, fuck all of you," said Kirk, slinking down in his chair.

To Kirk's great relief, Spock didn't get to school until a few minutes before the bell, thanks, apparently, to protocol-related issues at the Embassy. This was a good thing because the ribbing of Kirk continued up until Spock walked into the room. The whole class went silent when Spock came striding in, looking surprisingly angry. Spock didn't even notice that everyone was staring at him or that Kirk's forehead was an inch above his desk and bright red.

"The security protocols at the Embassy are becoming highly irritating," snapped Spock, dropping his back to the floor with a sharp clack of PADDs. "I misplaced my security badge and was attempting to leave, but I was stopped by the Embassy guards…" Spock trailed off, noticing finally that everyone was silent and staring at him. There was a deeply awkward pause, and then the whole class burst into chatter. Spock turned to Kirk, who was whistling determinedly.

"Is something going on?" said Spock slowly.

"I have no idea what would give you that impression," said Kirk with an air of great innocence.

Spock blinked a few times, sighed internally, and turned to his work.

x

That was two weeks before spring break and Risa.

The week right before spring break, Kirk was kind of freaking out.

Aurelan took Kirk shopping for appropriate clothes as a gift on the Friday before Kirk, Spock, and Sarek were to leave for Risa. They wandered around a mall for a while, trying on clothes and talking about nothings, until Aurelan finally steeled herself and said, "Winona mentioned that you like Spock."

Kirk, who was seeing if a miniskirt fit him, went still. "Yeah," he said casually. "I mean, I'm going to Risa with him."

"Jim," said Aurelan gently. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," said Kirk, in an entirely different tone of voice. He sighed and put the miniskirt back. "I'm sorry, just—everyone's been talking to me about this. And it's weird, you know? I've never liked anybody before quite as much as I like him. And—that's not—something I really want to… discuss."

"Okay," said Aurelan. "I can accept that." She watched Kirk flip through a rack of tank tops, then said, "How are you?"

Kirk seemed to understand what she was saying. "I'm good," he said, smiling at her as sincerely as she had ever seen him smile. "I feel so much better about everything." He checked the price on a gold shirt and scowled. "I talked to Spock, actually. About everything."

"Yeah?"

"He was great," said Kirk quietly. "Just, everything he said, you know—it helped that he was hearing me. And, not that I wouldn't want to talk to you, but—" He looked apologetic. "He just didn't know anything about any of it."

"I get that," said Aurelan. "That was what Sam did for me." She looked off, pensive. "You've heard about my parents."

"I have," said Kirk.

"So it was good to have him," said Aurelan. "Especially since he understood things from my point of view. And that's not really fair, if you think about it—that Sam only knows what I think, how I saw it—but it's important to _me_, and it's something I need. I'm sure it's something you need too."

They looked at each other for a while. Aurelan still seemed like the sweetest person in the world, with her gorgeous brown hair tumbling around her face in curls and her large, warm eyes. Her arms were resting on her big stomach—by now, she was eight months pregnant, and due at the beginning of May. Kirk had heard enough about her parents to understand what she was saying. Aurelan's parents had been religious fundamentalists that lived in a secluded part of northern California. They were throwbacks to the 1900s, cultists who believed the Second Coming was upon the corrupt world. Aurelan had fought with them for years for custody of her much younger sister, who she said was being abused at her parents' compound. The sister, who was eleven, was now living with Aurelan's aunt in Sacramento, and Aurelan no longer had any contact with her parents.

"I think this is going to be a great spring break," Kirk said at last, grinning. "Now, what do you think about these jeans?" He held up a pair of incredibly skinny black pants.

"I think you should try them on to make sure your ass looks great in them," said Aurelan seriously.

"I like the way you think," laughed Kirk, and went for the dressing room.

x

Later that night, Kirk went out to a café with Uhura and Scotty. They had been the only ones in English not to tease him about Spock, and so they were just about the only peers of his he felt charitable towards, until—

"You realize, however, that we weren't teasing you because we weren't _there_," said Uhura seriously over her chai latte. Scotty nodded. Kirk stared at them.

"From what ah heard, they're all right," said Scotty apologetically. "Y'ought t' get it on there on Risa. Nice, romantic place, y'know."

"I just hate all of you so much," said Kirk, putting his face into his mocha. "Why is nobody talking about Nyota's sexual exploits instead of my… sitcom of a life?"

"Because threesomes are less interesting than tragic and unrequited love," said Uhura. "I mean, they're less interesting if nobody will tell you the details. Which I won't. So instead we're stuck with your, as you accurately put it, sitcom of a life."

"Or, I am sure Scotty has some interesting stuff going on…?" Kirk tried, turning to Scotty, who was humming over his coffee.

"Absolutely not," said Scotty firmly. "May never share secrets with you again, Jim. This is all too entertainin'."

Kirk decided to change the topic. "What are you guys doing for spring break?" he asked innocently.

"My dad and I are taking Scotty to Harare to see my aunt and her family," said Uhura. "And the World Cup's going to be in Kigali, so we're going to fly over there for a game."

"Sounds fun," said Kirk modestly.

"Oh, shut up, not as fun as _Risa_," said Uhura. "Hey, I've been there, did you know that?"

"Oh my god, _what_?" Kirk slammed his mocha down on the table, making Scotty jump. "Tell me everything."

"They have," said Uhura, leaning forward with an evil grin, "the sexiest clubs, I swear. There's this one set of clubs—one of them is topless, and one of them is bottomless. It's amazing."

"Holy shit, how did I not know you've been to Risa?" Kirk was looking at Uhura like she was his new deity.

"I went this summer with one of my cousins," said Uhura. "Do you want a list of places to go? I can email you one."

"Marry me," breathed Kirk.

"He says yes," laughed Scotty.

x

And suddenly, Kirk was on a spaceship.

"Did you know," said Kirk lightly, staring out of the porthole and trying really, really hard not to let his voice tremble, "that I have never left Earth's atmosphere?" He blinked sweat out of his eyes. "At least, not that I can remember."

"Strange, considering you were born in space," said Spock, who was reading an article on his PADD with odd intensity.

"Yep," said Kirk. He took a very large drink of water and managed to slosh it on his chin. Spock glanced over at him and finally noticed his paleness.

"Jim, are you well?"

"Perfect," gasped Kirk.

The spaceship was called the _Urugo_, and it was huge. Apparently the route from San Francisco, Earth to Risaka (the largest city), Risa was a popular one: Morkor 12s, which held two thousand passengers, left for Risaka every three hours. Kirk, Spock, and Sarek were on the top deck in first class. But nice as the ship was, the inertial dampeners weren't perfect, and Kirk, who was apparently sensitive to this type of thing, could feel every bump.

He wasn't exactly scared, that was for sure. But he was perhaps… apprehensive. Especially when the correcting field on his tray table had to activate to grab his drink from spilling because of a particularly violent jolt.

"Can we talk about something?" said Kirk, a little desperately. Spock got a weird look on his face and Kirk realized how serious that sounded. "I mean, distract me." Different weird look on Spock's face. _I can_not_ talk right now,_ Kirk sighed to himself. "I _mean_, apparently I don't really like space travel so can we have a conversation that makes me feel better by distracting me in a non-sexual way," and _unless you would like to distract me in a sexual way_ was left unspoken.

"We could discuss relativity," said Spock, eyes wide. "Perhaps the development of the theorem stating l-prime-gamma is equal to l."

"I remember my physics teacher saying that was a silly-looking equation," said Kirk, gulping. Spock just looked at him, and Kirk cursed himself again for not being able to communicate. "You know, because gamma is an upside down cursive 'l.'" Kirk frowned. "But also, that equation… isn't right, you know…"

"Yes, Lorentz and FitzGerald had to assume it to explain the Michaelson/Morely experiment, but of course Einstein was able to derive the correct equation as related to his theory of relativity."

This was already making Kirk feel better. He barely noticed when the ship left atmo, and Spock had to tell him to turn on his antigrav when the captain turned off the fasten seat belt sign. In the meantime, they had a long discussion on the history of relativity. Which was ironic because they were about to go light-speed.

"This isn't possible, you know," said Kirk, grinning out the window as the captain noted he was preparing for warp. "An Einstein/Cochrane smackdown would be really cool."

"Quite," Spock murmured, all but rolling his eyes.

There was a low, gathering buzz underneath Kirk's seat; streaks formed in the star trails, and the ship leapt forward. The movement washed away Kirk's fear entirely, and he leaned eagerly towards the porthole, gasping as the stars flowed past. The bubble of subspace that the _Urugo_ was travelling in made the edges of the star trails curve. The physics of it all washed over Kirk's consciousness, equations floating behind his eyes, and the glory of successful science was so strong that he had an image: himself in a space suit, floating outside of a ship and watching the sun set behind the Earth.

"If I've said anything against space travel before this, I take it back," said Kirk. "This is _awesome_. I have got to come out here again."

"Into space?" asked Spock.

"Oh hell yes," said Kirk. "Look at those wave functions!" He flapped his hand at the porthole. "We're flying through _science!_"

"I was under the impression that you were frightened by space travel."

"Actually, that was before I realized how_ cool _it was," Kirk enthused. He was about to add something about science when the ship hit a gravity wave and a few people's drinks went flying across the cabin. Kirk gulped down a sizzle of fear.

"When I was very young, I was fascinated by trogobols," said Spock reminiscently. "They are highly poisonous and volatile reptiles that have the ability to fly. I had wanted to see one for years and years, and once when I was with my mother in the Nag'av we saw a trogobol nest. And instead of being overjoyed that I was so close to animals that I had wanted to encounter my entire life, I was absolutely terrified."

"I see what you're trying to do there but I don't need a metaphor, just some Dramamine," sighed Kirk, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes to try to get rid of his nausea. "Wake me up when we get to Risa."

x

"Oh my God," said Kirk.

He and Spock were standing outside of their hotel. Sarek was inside, checking in. Kirk was holding his bag very loosely in his left hand and clutching his forehead with his right hand. Even Spock looked a little awed.

"Pinch me," Kirk pled. "Is this heaven? Have I died and gone there?"

"Quite… possibly," said Spock, very quietly. Kirk stared at him. "Excuse me. Yes, this is indeed a remarkable planet."

"They're just not _wearing_ anything," said Kirk, in a sort of pleading tone. "And all of these stores, they're perfect, that one sells _just glitter?_ And there's a club over there that's… a geode. Oh my God, Spock, that club is a _geode_."

"We should go inside the hotel," said Spock, sounding pained.

"That would be best," said Kirk. "I feel faint."

The hotel was incredibly posh. Well, to Spock it was upscale, and to Kirk it was diamond-studded. There was a fountain the size of a small moon in the lobby and a caged platypus bear growling at passers-by near the turbolifts. The reception was framed by platinum statues of ancient philosophers and there was gold leaf on everything. Even the complimentary tissues.

"Greetings," said Sarek, handing Kirk and Spock their room keys, which were carved out of sapphire. "This is a very elegant hotel."

"Elegant," Kirk repeated automatically, staring at a chandelier through his key.

"We have a suite," said Sarek, leading them towards the turbolifts. (The platypus bear flapped its tail at them.) "Room number 512. The conference will be taking place in the Hediya Conference Center, which is two blocks away. I will provide both of you with the address and directions. Dinner will be served at seven, and I expect you both to attend."

"Yes, Father," said Spock, stepping smartly into the turbolift. Kirk hadn't quite gotten over everything yet and was still standing there and staring through his key. Spock cleared his throat and Kirk jumped comically and hurried into the elevator.

"Yes, Sarek," he said meekly. Spock had to physically keep himself from smiling.

The suite was as preposterous as the lobby. There were four bedrooms, an office, a sitting room, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, an exercise room, and a room that was entirely filled with a mattress and pillows. (All Sarek said when they looked inside was, resignedly, "Risans_._") The bedrooms all had bathrooms attached, and the one Kirk chose had a hot tub as well. (Spock and Sarek had passed on that one for reasons Kirk simply did not understand.) Sarek, being both adult and a Vulcan, quickly wearied of exploring the suite and went off to his room to do responsible things. Kirk, meanwhile, lured Spock into his room and tried to convince him to get into the hot tub.

"It'll be really nice and relaxing," said Kirk cajolingly, pulling a towel out of a cabinet. "Come on—the water is so nice and warm!"

"Jim, it is the middle of the afternoon," said Spock patiently. "This is not the right time for hot tubs. Additionally, I dislike hot tubs."

"How can you—what? Why do you dislike _hot tubs_? What is there to _dislike_? They're hot… _tubs_."

Spock raised his eyebrow.

"Oh, you know what I mean," Kirk sighed.

"Hot tubs are not hot," Spock said. "Although I have a lower core body temperature than you, my surface temperature is higher, and thus I do not find hot tubs hot enough."

"Then… treat them like a pool?" suggested Kirk. "We can probably find some floaties."

"You really want to do this, do you not," said Spock.

"I really do."

"Fine," said Spock. "I will put on my bathing suit."

He left. Kirk slid down the wall of the bathroom and sat splayed on the floor.

"There are probably situations in which I could be happier," he said to himself, "but I can't imagine them."

x

Kirk and Spock were, after all, on the swim team, so it wasn't like Kirk hadn't seen Spock in a Speedo before. But it was one thing to see Spock in a swimsuit in the big pool with a lot of other people, and another to see Spock in a swimsuit two feet from Kirk's face and flushed a distinct green.

"I am surprised that you have insisted on trying out the hot tub before venturing into Risaka," said Spock, sliding smoothly into the water. The surface barely rippled.

"Dinner's only in two hours, how much sightseeing can we do before then?" said Kirk, dipping a toe in. God, that was _hot_ water.

Spock shrugged. "A good point. I had simply presumed that you were eager to get in every bit of sightseeing you could."

"We have a whole week," Kirk reminded him. He closed his eyes and took the plunge. The water rushed over him; his skin seemed to puff up with heat. He surfaced, gasping. "Holy shit, I'm _boiling_."

"The water is only forty degrees Celsius," said Spock.

"Which is the regulatory max," said Kirk. "I can't believe you aren't hot at _all_."

"My circulatory system—"

"Yeah, I know," sighed Kirk, paddling over to a seat across from Spock and situating himself on it. "So! What do you want to do on Risa?"

Spock raised another eyebrow. "Nothing life-threatening."

"No promises," said Kirk. He leaned out of the tub and grabbed at a PADD, pulling up his server. "Now, I've made a list of nightclubs—let me add that geode one real quick—and organized it by location, theme, availability of alcohol, rating, closing time, opening time, cover charge, common species, and pool."

"Pool?"

"Yeah, a surprisingly large number of clubs have swimming pools," said Kirk. "I don't know. Seems dangerous, but hey." He handed Spock the PADD.

"Jim, there are four hundred and twenty-six clubs on this list."

"Do you know how much I had to whittle that down?" Kirk demanded.

"I can only imagine," Spock murmured, scrolling. "Your organization system is… impressive."

"Choose one! We can go after dinner."

"Perhaps we should catch up on sleep—" Spock stopped when he saw Kirk's expression. "Never mind."

"That's the spirit," said Kirk.

x

Kirk had packed his suitcase entirely full of partying clothes, which he realized when Sarek popped in to mention that the dress code for dinner was business casual.

"Hey, uh, Spock?" he said, knocking lightly on Spock's door. "Do you have, like… an extra… suit?"

Spock, who was trying to choose between purple and green formal robes, stuck his head out from behind his dressing screen. "Excuse me?"

Kirk twiddled his thumbs. "Apparently I forgot to bring, um, non-clubbing clothes."

"Jim," sighed Spock. "What size are you?"

"Uh, forty," said Kirk, taking a few steps into Spock's room.

"Good, I am a thirty-eight," said Spock. "Wait a moment." He pulled the purple robe over his head and came out from behind the screen.

"Oh shit, are you wearing Vulcan formal robes?" said Kirk.

"Yes, and that is all I have," said Spock, handing Kirk the green robe. "You will have to wear the rest of the accessories as well." He opened a hatbox-sized container to reveal a set of golden crowns and other jewelry.

"Okay, I am pretty sure this is cultural appropriation," said Kirk. "Am I even _allowed_ to wear this?"

"There are no rules against it," said Spock, handing Kirk the belt, jacket, vest, and under-robe as well. "There are also shoes, let me find them…"

Ten minutes later, Kirk and Spock peeked around the door to see Sarek sitting in the living room, meditating as he waited for them. Kirk tried to brush a tassel out of his eye. Spock slapped his hand. "The positioning of the _ka-li-ya_ is very important."

"I am pretty sure Sarek is going to kill me," Kirk mourned. He glanced over at a mirror and struck a pose. "But I really like the traditional lip gloss. It's minty!"

"Come on," sighed Spock, grabbing Kirk's hand and pulling him into the living room.

To Kirk's great relief, Sarek wasn't offended. Even better, it turned out that Spock and Sarek were the only Vulcans at the formal dinner. However, this meant that various other species thought that Kirk was Vulcan as well. Spock took to telling people they were brothers.

"We don't even look alike," protested Kirk. "Not only am I blond and pink not _green_, my ears and eyebrows aren't pointy!"

"Then explain to the nice Bajorans why you are wearing Vulcan robes," Spock offered.

"I hate you," Kirk pouted.

They were seated at the accessory table with other non-diplomats and talked to only each other through the first seven courses. But during the eighth, a blue Orion boy their age leaned over and introduced himself as Soaa.

"I am pleased to meet the Vulcan contingent," said Soaa, smiling brilliantly at Kirk and Spock. "Have either of you been to Risa before?"

"We have not," said Spock. "It is a beautiful planet. I look forward to exploring it."

"I can help with that," said Soaa. "I have been many times with my parents. I know all the best clubs. Would you like to come with me tonight?"

Spock glanced at Kirk, who was staring at Soaa with something very close to lust on his face. His chest went cold, but he nodded firmly. "We would be pleased to join you, Soaa," he said, and he looked over to see Kirk smiling hugely at him.

x

Soaa, like all Orions, was about a foot taller than Kirk and Spock. He had pale blue skin and gorgeous golden eyes, and smooth white hair tied into a topknot. His clubbing clothes were perfectly coordinated, all ice blues and silvers and whites, and revealing. He wore only a few bands on his top half, with his jewelry and spikes, and form-fitting pants. Spock, who had to go to Kirk for help with clothes, felt messy and frumpy for once in his life. His clothes barely revealed any skin and weren't matched, and he had refused to wear as much jewelry as was traditional or let Kirk temp-dye his hair.

Kirk and Soaa chattered all the way to a club called Chocolatier, which had a garden theme. ("No idea," Kirk mouthed to Spock.) Soaa apparently knew the bouncer and got them immediately. The place was packed. Spock realized that he didn't even know who some of the species present were. Kirk looked absolutely delighted. The place was gorgeous, all lush flowers and foliage, with cool fog blowing from the vents and grassy drinks served in molded leaves.

Spock stayed with Kirk and Soaa long enough to comment briefly on how pretty the place was and have the comment ignored. He made unheard excuses and went off to a table in the back, where nobody was sitting. The dance floor was beneath him, and pounding music blasted from the green spray-painted speakers. He leaned against the back wall and wanted to sleep. He wished he had brought a PADD or something to do. How could he think it was a good idea to bring Kirk to Risa? He wasn't a clubber; he knew Kirk would abandon him for the really fun people at the first chance he got.

He picked the polish off his nails for the next half hour, trying to ignore the people bouncing happily in front of him and hoping he wouldn't lose his hearing sitting so close to the speakers. He was just about to go get some water from the bar when a shadow loomed over him.

"I have been looking for you for ages!" Kirk yelled at him. He actually looked _angry_. "Where the fuck did you go? Oh my god, Spock, I thought somebody had kidnapped you or something."

"Where is Soaa?" said Spock, standing up.

"Fuck if I know!" Kirk shouted. He aimed a vicious finger at Spock's chest. "Don't _ever_ do that again! Do you hear me?"

"Yes, I—I did not think you wanted to spend time with me," said Spock quietly. Kirk shook his head, confused; Spock realized Kirk couldn't hear him. "I thought you were with Soaa!" he called.

"Why do you keep talking about Soaa? You are so weird," said Kirk, shaking his head. "Come on, I'm glad I found you during this song, it's my favorite! You have to dance. And try this one drink! I had one before I realized you were _missing_." He shot another dark look at Spock. "It's like, rain water and curaçao? I don't know, but it's _tasty_."

Then he took Spock's hand and dragged him into the dancing crowd, and Spock was so happy that he laughed.

x


	47. Chapter 47: Whom Gods Destroy

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Forty-Seven: Whom Gods Destroy_

x

On their last night in Risaka, Kirk and Spock finally went to the geode club across the street. Parts of it were a letdown ("I can't believe this place is actually called _Geode_, how uncreative _is_ that?"), but other parts were _definitely_ not.

"This is just unnecessarily pretty," said Kirk. He and Spock were standing in the very middle of the club on its purple polished floor, looking up at the buttresses of shining rock above them. "I feel like we got trapped in… geology."

Spock looked at him.

"I mean, because we're actually _in a massive geode!_" Kirk protested, gesturing. "Might as well hang out on the edge of a volcano."

"Except the heat from a volcano—"

Kirk turned in a whirl and put his finger over Spock's lips. "Don't pick fights, honey," he said, leaning in close, his grin almost feral. "Let's dance."

It was, as always, an exercise in futility. Kirk danced happy circles around Spock, who bobbed his head occasionally but otherwise merely tapped his fingers and feet in rhythm. Kirk had been deeply frustrated by this the first night, but had given up after Spock, irritated, had yelled, "Simply because I do not 'groove freely,' as you say, does not mean I am lacking! Please respect my wish not to dance!"

Kirk had muttered, "I never said 'groove freely,' the fuck does that mean," stuck his tongue out at Spock, and stopped harassing him.

It was a luxuriant pause. Spock could find stillness—sometimes by being it—in any place he went. Their roles seemed so clear-cut in places like these. Kirk was a planet that orbited Spock's fixed sun.

As it was their last night, Spock ordered a mudslide at the bar and found himself waltzing with Kirk ten minutes later. They cut an archaic swath through the golden crowd, feet boxing the _one_-two-three patterns of the Viennese. Spock leant Kirk in a dip, vice versa in a turn. No moment was alone; they were all one part of time together. When their cheeks touched, they had always been touching. When their hands clasped, they had always been clasping.

There was a moment, when Kirk was leading, that stood out from the others. Kirk had turned to check his periphery and Spock's eyes went to Kirk's mouth, lips flat in concentration. In a second that stretched, he pondered. What is a kiss if not a compliment, a word of thanks, an expression of sincere regard? No. A kiss is many things, Spock thought. When I am sure what I want a kiss to be, I will give it. Not before that time.

When Kirk looked back, it was into Spock's fathomless eyes.

x

Bones, Sulu, and Chapel were underneath a picnic table in Chapel's back yard. Scotty was asleep on top of the table with the plans for the new _Enterprise_ covering his eyes. Chekov, sitting near the door, had his tongue sticking out of his mouth and was drawing the scene. Uhura, trying to learn how to juggle, kept having to snatch the various things she was throwing out of the air above Scotty's prone and gently snoring form.

Chapel wrinkled her nose as she passed the joint she, Bones, and Sulu were sharing back to Bones. "That's not good," she said frankly to Sulu. "That's _really_ not good. It tastes like there's poison ivy in that."

"You'd be dead if that were the case," said Bones. "Don't y'know—"

"Shut up, I took the smoke inhalation course," Chapel sighed. "I'm just saying—I'm disappointed."

Sulu shrugged. "Spring's a tough time of year, yo. Everybody wants stress relief and I'm not willing to pay out the ear for it."

"Well I am," said Chapel, producing a wad of credits and pushing them into Sulu's lap. "For God's sake, bring me some actual _Cannabis indica_ next time."

Sulu shrugged and tucked the credits into his wallet. "Your wish," he said gently.

Uhura came over and looked beneath the table. "They're late," she said accusatorily.

"Search me," Bones shrugged, blowing smoke in her face. "Text 'em or somethin'."

Uhura sighed and pulled out her phone. She was scrolling through her contacts when completely out of the blue, she pictured a page in her great-grandmother's ancient photo album, the one that was in bio-storage in their attic. It was a collage of Uhura's grandmother, Hasa, and Uhura's mother, Itidal, shopping in Dar es Salaam, reading, posing at a graduation, making ugali, playing video games. Uhura remembered asking her father about the captions under the pictures. They were not in Swahili.

"That is Nyamwezi, your mother's language," Chane said. He had gotten a Nyamwezi dictionary down from the shelf and taught Uhura a few words and phrases. One of those phrases was a proverb that went: _Mwikuwisa kalilo moto, konsi kakawule_; If you hide hot embers, the smoke will betray you.

Uhura carried the hard drives with her at all times, now, in case she ever had a realization like this one. She excused herself distractedly and went inside. On Chapel's couch, she plugged one of the two remaining hard drives into her PADD. The password entry blinked patiently at her.

kalilo; _embers_, Uhura typed. konsi; _smoke_.

The password entry faded. Uhura selected the single photo contained on the drive, her heart beating powerfully.

It was one of the photos from the photo album, the one of Hasa and Itidal making ugali. Uhura put her hands over her mouth, trying to breathe. Then she gave up all pretense of calm, ran outside, and broke the news.

x

The second chip was in the pantry and necessitated Bones cracking his knuckles and pulling boards off of shelves. Sure enough, under the cornmeal, Uhura spotted a flash of green: the second chip, embedded in a plastic case.

She plugged it in. Reading over her shoulder, everybody read:

_Nyota, you are doing well. Please locate and insert the final datachip_. _—Itidal_.

Uhura had driven, madly, with the rest of the hoverclub (excepting Kirk and Spock, who were late) in her back seat, to her house, where they had torn upstairs and unearthed the album. Behind the photo of Hasa and Itidal making ugali was a tiny plastic baggie of cornmeal, ugali's main ingredient. Chane, who was super organized, always kept the same foods in the same place in the kitchen, and had for years. They had thundered downstairs, ransacked the pantry, and Uhura had finally deputized Bones to break things.

"Okay, so both clues have relied on your knowledge of Tanzanian languages, so far," said Sulu. "I don't think we can help you with this at _all_, especially since the second clue was hidden away."

"How could mom possibly think I could know that saying?" Uhura said, pacing. They were gathered in the living room, discussing the events of the past hour. "_Dad_ taught it to me, not her."

"Maybe it was somethin' she used to say," suggested Bones.

"Maybe it was somezing she _told_ him to say," said Chekov knowingly.

"Yeah, it doesn't sound like something she'd say a lot," said Chapel, picking at her fingernails. "I mean, how often does one talk about hiding stuff?"

"Well, normal families have nice, fucked-up secrets," said Uhura. "So, you know, a lot."

"Your definition of _normal_ concerns me."

"Does your—and I don't know if this is an appropriate question, but—does your family have _many_ nice, fucked-up secrets?" said Sulu.

"I mean, your standard addictions and arrests and possible infidelity that I don't actually know anything about because I am smart enough not to want to scar my brain," said Uhura. "But how is a _language_ also a family secret?"

"These chips are hidden. That's secret. And they're hidden with language only you know."

"Only dad and me," Uhura corrected. "He knows a lot more Nyamwezi than I do."

Scotty's eyes narrowed. "What's your father's language?"

Uhura stared at him. "What?"

"Your mother—her family was Nyamwezi. Is your father o' th' same ethnic group?"

"No, he's Igbo."

Chekov frowned. "There goes the Tanzanian connection."

"I don't know any Igbo because dad specializes in Swahili literature—I mean, I've never heard him speak it, and all his parents speak to me, and each other, is English."

"Ah, th' wonders o' colonialism," Scotty sighed.

"Why does your dad specialize in Swahili literature if he's not from that area?" asked Chapel curiously.

Uhura shrugged. "He likes it best."

"So you don't know _any_ Igbo," she pressed.

"None," said Uhura, shaking her head. "I mean, I think I could recognize someone speaking it, because I just—know that much about African languages. But I don't know any words at all."

"What else did your mother speak?" Bones asked.

"English, Swahili, Nyamwezi… French. And some Russian."

Chekov perked up. "Your mother spoke _Russian_?"

"Poorly," laughed Uhura. "Also, conversational Mandarin, Unified Korean, and Arabic."

"Hm," said Sulu. "Arabic is spoken relatively commonly in Dar es Salaam, right? And that's where your mom's from."

"Yes, that's where she learned it; she went to an Islamic school there," said Uhura.

"What did you speak at home?" Sulu asked.

"English," said Uhura.

"Okay, rank the languages in the order you spoke them…"

They spent too much of the next few hours discussing languages. Uhura, happy about a chance to discuss her own proficiency with languages, had a blast, but she realized that people were getting bored around dinnertime. Also, Kirk and Spock hadn't yet tried to contact them.

x

Kirk and Spock had staggered back to the hotel in the early morning to be awoken at six, only a couple of hours later. Kirk groaned and pulled the pillow over his head when somebody beat on his door. A second later, it was snatched off of him, and he opened his eyes to Spock's face.

"Our flight has been rescheduled," said Spock. "Get up. Right now. We must leave in ten minutes."

"_What?_" Kirk squawked, throwing himself out of bed and staggering around, pulling on boxers and jeans and shirts. "When? _Why_?"

"Do you recall the baby Leonard delivered in Los Angeles? He has been kidnapped."

Kirk almost fell over his suitcase. "Are you _serious_? On," he said at the TV. The first news channel he came to was discussing… a strike in Qatar?

Spock cleared his throat. "Due to the… sensitive nature of this event, the kidnapping has not yet been made public."

"You mean, due to the fact that his father is a Romulan Counsel and his mother is the Vice President of the Federation."

"Yes," said Spock.

"Okay," said Kirk. "Okay. Um. Why did you tell me that? I mean, if this is sensitive information—"

Spock shrugged. "Father felt it polite to explain to me why we needed to leave unexpectedly, and you are the soul of discretion."

"Was that a joke? I think that was a joke," muttered Kirk, stuffing pants into his bag.

Eleven minutes later, they were in a taxi to the spaceport. Sarek enclosed himself in a comm bubble for the ride, leaving Kirk to quiz Spock about what exactly had happened.

"Leave no detail unturned," said Kirk seriously. "We're thinking this is Nero, right?"

"He has been put forward as a suspect," Spock acknowledged. "However, we are perhaps the only ones that are truly suspicious. Apparently resistance to the idea of a Rihanh resurgence continues."

"Because nothing can be easy," Kirk sighed. "Okay, to be fair, _is_ there any evidence against Nero? I mean—does anyone know _anything_ about his whereabouts?"

"Not as far as I have picked up," said Spock. He glanced at his father, who was thoroughly immersed in a conversation. "I have been… monitoring sensitive communications."

Kirk's eyes went wide. "_Spying_?"

"The good of the many…"

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Okay, so, Vulcan ethics go out the door fast. Good to know."

"Every time we have failed to take serious precautions concerning Nero, tragedy and violence has occurred," said Spock sharply. "I will employ the necessary means to protect those to whom I am emotionally attached."

"Right," said Kirk. "Sorry."

Rikasa faded behind them as the taxi left the city. Great walls of blue trees arose on either side of the car, and the vast, perfect sky held a halo of clouds around the reddish sun, just rising over the mountains to the east. Kirk and Spock sat across from each other in the taxi's long passenger lounge, leaning into each other's space at complimentary angles.

Sarek disengaged his comm bubble as the taxi pulled in to departures. Kirk hastily mentioned something about the upcoming AP tests, but he wasn't sure Sarek was fooled. As they walked into the spaceport, Kirk considered that Sarek had just as much motivation for capturing Nero as the rest of the hoverclub. Still, though, he was a senior ambassador and certainly wouldn't breach security for something like revenge.

x

The trip home was discomfiting. Once on the ship, Kirk couldn't stop thinking about the fact that a _baby_ had been taken. He ended up reading the whole Wikipedia article on the Lindbergh kidnapping during takeoff, then got a little nauseous again and broke out in hives, but that turned out to be the result of his allergy to Antarean hagalabarafawava fruit, which had been in the cereal he'd been served when they first sat down in the space ship. The ship they were on this time had an in-flight doctor that apparently never blinked despite appearing to be a human, and it kind of creeped Kirk out to have someone staring intently at him while he was being thoroughly examined, tested, and hyposprayed, so after he left the doctor he spent a lot of time flipping through the in-flight magazine and twitching.

Spock, meanwhile, was having a minor crisis of conscience due to the fact that he knew his father's encryption key. Vulcans didn't exactly hand their encryption keys around, but they were unlikely to change them if another Vulcan accidentally stumbled upon it, as fellow Vulcans—and especially family members—were, quite reasonably, considered to be trustworthy. So Spock spent a lot of time flipping through his chemistry textbook and reviewing his old worry that he was somehow lesser because he was half-human. After all, with his father's encryption key, Spock could access his father's personal files, which would contain access codes to very, very, very top secret databases owned by the Federation, Earth, and Vulcan. He could, he realized, find out quite a lot about the Rihanh and Nero without having to go through the library systems, which would, of course, alert the likes of Miko again.

With his father's encryption key he could find Nero and revenge his mother.

It was awful trying to keep all of those feelings in, and below the surface. Embarrassment and hatred and worry coursed through him. He had never had so little focus while holding a textbook. The chemical formulas slipped through his head, letters and numbers twisting into red-hot words that stabbed at him. He wanted, so badly, to track Nero like a dog, to hunt him down and kill him with his own hands, and yet he felt such shame at thinking this, such horror that he could be capable of even conceiving of such violence and strong emotion. He felt unworthy and confused and sick.

By the time the ship landed at SFO, Spock felt quite sure he was going to throw up. He realized that he hadn't looked at Kirk all flight, and when he did—

It was stupid and un-Vulcan-like and a small part of him felt even more shame upon realizing, but as soon as he looked at Kirk, he felt better—he felt _less_. The roiling sickness inside of him calmed. The remaining bit of him that was still Vulcan and reasonable judged and judged, but everything else went quiet and soft and… _happy_. It was hateful. It was weak. It was _wonderful_.

And Kirk wasn't even looking at him. When he did, when Kirk glanced up from the book he was reading, saw Spock watching him, and _smiled_, Spock felt like he might just combust like a too-hot sun.

x

As soon as they had made it through Customs, Sarek swept off to Federation Headquarters to deal with the kidnapping, leaving Spock with his diplomatic transportation pass. Kirk promptly swiped it to hail down the nicest looking taxi he could find at the taxi stand.

"Is this necessary?" Spock said mildly as he poured himself into the memory-flex, heat-cooled, LED-lit, techscreen-equipped seat. The taxi was actually a repurposed holo-limo that had been _upgraded_. Spock had never realized that holo-limos could even _be_ upgraded.

"Completely necessary," Kirk assured him, cracking open the minibar and pulling out a real, actual bottle of champagne. He surveyed the label critically, grinned, and popped the cork. Spock tried not to jump. "They even non-rep drinks! Although there _is_ a replicator," Kirk added, peering into the depths of the minibar. "Oh wow, it's fully stocked."

Spock's seat was trying to eat him. It kept fluffing up and putting pillows around his head and massaging his legs. He was both supremely comfortable and slightly terrified. Thankfully, he found the off button just as Kirk handed him a flute of champagne.

"Thank you," said Spock gravely, and deposited the bubbly in a cup holder that actually had little hands. "You should never, ever be allowed to have diplomatic privileges."

"Which means that I'm going to really take advantage of the times when I do have them," Kirk said, settling back and crossing his legs. He looked utterly relaxed and confident, and Spock couldn't help but envy his human ease and coolness a little. "So. What's eating you? You looked constipated all flight."

"My digestive system is perfectly healthy," said Spock sincerely. "In fact—"

"Oh my God," said Kirk, holding up his hands. "No. Never mind. Don't go there. Let me rephrase that question because I forgot how fucking literal you are. Your emotional state seems unstable. Or disturbed. Or something."

"How can you tell?" said Spock, perturbed.

Kirk just looked at him. "I know you," he said simply.

Spock gave him that. "I have encountered a moral dilemma," he said. "Do you remember how I told you that I have been 'monitoring sensitive communications'? I merely meant that I have been paying close attention to the communications my father receives from the Federation, Starfleet, and other species organizations or planets that he takes within my auditory range. I have not, as you implied, been immoral in my surveillance procedures. However." Spock took a deep breath and sat up a little in the chair, which was more difficult than it should have been. Kirk was watching him closely.

"However, I am in possession of something that could greatly help us. Because I am his son, my father has never concealed his encryption key from me."

"_What_?" said Kirk. His eyes had gone wide. "Nobody is ever supposed to share their encryption key!"

"This is true," Spock acknowledged. "In fact, it is law that a person's Federation-assigned key never be known by any individual, even a family member, who is not authorized to know it by the Federation. Vulcans, however, trust each other deeply, and Vulcan trust goes beyond even Federation legal codes." Spock pushed his glasses up. "My dilemma should be obvious."

"Yeah," said Kirk slowly. "Of course."

They were quiet for a long time. Spock watched Kirk thinking. It was an oddly transparent process. He could see Kirk weighing the advantages and disadvantages and the implications.

"I think," said Kirk at last and with great gravity, "that you should not use it except in times of extreme need. Consider it a weapon. Only as a last resort, with provocation, and such. If we feel that another person will be put in danger because of the actions of Nero or the Rihanh—then you should use it."

Spock nodded as if he had been considering this exact route all along. "Yes," he said, putting his dreams of revenge firmly behind him. "Yes, of course."

x

The taxi dropped them at the Vulcan Embassy. Kirk had to be persuaded to leave the champagne. They were going to study—they really were—but Kirk ordered warm milk on the replicator, and they sipped it quietly and talked on the couch, and then the sun was the calm yellow of the end of the day, and I-Chaya was curled up on the couch next to Spock…

When Kirk woke up, it was utterly dark, and Spock's head was on his shoulder. All he could see to his right was a thatch of straight black hair. I-Chaya had, characteristically, stretched out so that he took up an entire two-thirds of the couch and was nevertheless mostly in Spock's lap. Kirk tried to shift because his arm was definitely asleep, but he had to stop when Spock made a very small and unhappy noise and reached up and grabbed Kirk's shirt collar, bunching it in his fist.

It was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. He was suddenly and completely awake. And he couldn't move. At all. Because whenever he did move Spock's fist just got tighter and Kirk's eyes got bigger and bigger in his head. I-Chaya snuffled in his sleep.

He sat there, still as solid wood, for what felt like eight lifetimes. It was so quiet that he could hear Spock's heart beating. Really, though, Kirk was only awake for ten minutes before Spock, whose legs were apparently hurting under the weight of I-Chaya's head and shoulders, let go of Kirk's shirt to stretch and kick I-Chaya off his lap.

Kirk straightened his shirt hurriedly. Spock, who was still bleary, didn't seem to realize what position he'd been in. Kirk got up and went to get some water. By the time he returned to the living room, Spock was fully awake and had turned on some lights. Spock didn't seem to remember how he had been sleeping. Kirk wasn't entirely sure if he was happy about that or not. It bore consideration.

They took I-Chaya into the gardens. It was fantastically gorgeous: most of the flowers and plants were in bloom, even a few of the Vulcan transplants, which somehow _looked_ as if they were from Vulcan. Of course, it was obvious that they were, as they were planted in sand or rock, but something about the structure of the alien foliage was Vulcan as well: the flowers were utilitarian, the bushes hardly looked as if they needed trimmed. Kirk felt himself relaxing again. Which was a mistake, because about two seconds after they let I-Chaya off his electro-leash, he had disappeared behind a tree and snuffled out another of the garden's visitors.

"_Sa-kuglasu_," said a mild voice in Vulcan-accented Standard. "And Mr. Kirk. What a pleasure to see you both tonight."

It was T'Pring's voice.

"_Ko-kuglasu_," Spock replied formally. He had straightened considerably. T'Pring emerged from behind a miniaturized redwood. Kirk had to try not to gasp.

T'Pring was dressed in the most gorgeous dress he had ever seen. It was orange and golden and pink, tiered and tailored perfectly to fit her slight form. She looked like a china doll. Her hair was formed in perfect arches around her head, and Vulcan-style jewelry simply dripped from her. I-Chaya bounded beside her, enthusiastic drool dripping from his fangs as if to say, "Look who I found! Aren't you proud!"

"Please excuse my appearance," said T'Pring, walking towards them with tiny steps. "There was a reception tonight for the Cardassian ambassador." She wrinkled her nose delicately. "A thoroughly unpleasant being."

"I am sure," said Spock diplomatically. Kirk looked between him and T'Pring. They hadn't taken their eyes off of each other yet.

Kirk felt suddenly cold.

"You returned early from Risa," T'Pring said. Had she blinked yet? Kirk's mind went into overdrive. What was he missing? There was something going on here, there had to be.

"Yes," Spock acknowledged. "My father was alerted to urgent business. May I compliment you on your _sai-vai_?" He paused. "_Ton_ _kaluk-mokov_…"

"Do not be rude," said T'Pring. "Mr. Kirk does not speak Vulcan. Yes, you remember these earrings, do you not?" She cupped the pearlescent earrings that cascaded from her ears. "Your _Kah-ka_ gift to me." For the first time she looked at Kirk. "Excuse me," she said. "_Kah-ka_, loosely translated, means engagement."

There was a rather long moment in which T'Pring stared at Kirk, Kirk stared at T'Pring, and Spock, in dawning horror, realized that he had never told Kirk about his engagement to T'Pring.

x


	48. Chapter 48: Balance of Terror

**Enterprise High**

_being a high school AU of ST: XI_

_with many hijinks_

_and much angst_

x

_Chapter Forty-Eight: Balance of Terror_

x

Kirk was utterly furious for a full half second. His view of T'Pring was tinged with red. He hated her and Spock and the stupid garden and everything and he couldn't _believe_ this could happen to him. _I _would, he thought bitterly, _fall in love with a half-alien only to learn that he's fucking _engaged_ to be fucking _married_ to another alien and—!_

The rage went out of him like a balloon losing air. He sighed.

T'Pring, who had been watching him closely, whirled angrily on Spock—well, as much as a Vulcan could whirl angrily. "You have not _told_ him?" she demanded.

Spock straightened, a slightly queasy expression on his face. "No," he said slowly. "I have not."

T'Pring raised her head so that she was looking down her nose scornfully at Spock. "Mr. Kirk," she said, not taking her eyes off of Spock. "May I have a word in private with you?"

"Uh," said Kirk. "Sure..."

T'Pring turned on her heel and swept away. Kirk glanced at Spock, who was apparently frozen to the spot. Kirk shrugged to himself and followed her.

T'Pring led Kirk all the way through the west garden, around the corner of the Embassy, and to a little clearing surrounded by Seuss-like trees that held a fountain and a few benches. She settled grandly on one of the benches and gestured for Kirk to sit down beside her, which he did, bemused.

"First," said T'Pring, clasping her hands together in her lap and fixing Kirk with an utterly unblinking stare, "I feel the need to remind you that Vulcans do not often interfere with the business or relationships of other Vulcans. This is a rare instance of such interference, and I would like to apologize to you for any awkwardness or offense you feel."

She fell silent and stared at him. Kirk stared back until he realized a reply was necessitated. "Oh, um, yeah, thanks, no, it's fine," he stammered.

"Good," said T'Pring crisply. "Second, I would ask that you do not report to Spock what I am going to tell you." She looked at him expectantly again.

Kirk went for honesty. "I really don't think I can promise that," he said. "I mean, obviously, if you tell me anything he shouldn't know, I won't discuss it. But if he already, uh, I guess, knows what you're going to talk to me about, then..." He trailed off.

T'Pring tilted her head at him. "You would not be a very good composer of confidentiality agreements," she said.

Kirk laughed, surprised. When he looked at T'Pring again, he could have sworn she was smiling. But next second she was solemn again. "I understand," she said. "Mr. Kirk, what I want _you _to understand is that it is my business what happens to my..." T'Pring hesitated, then used the Standard word. "... to my fiancé. Who he consults with, who he befriends, who he becomes interested in. These standards may not be familiar to your culture. It does not matter. Spock and I are Vulcan. We were bound in a deeply sacred Vulcan ceremony. We have not been unbound, and until we are, his business is mine." She tilted her head. "As such, my business is his. I have tried to discuss this with him, but Spock-understandably, I think-does not wish to grow too close to me once more."

Kirk looked at T'Pring's hands, folded gently over the box pleats in the center of her gown. They were small and perfectly manicured, closed in a form undoubtedly devised to best display the garish rings Vulcans wore on formal occasions. But her left pointer finger tapped occasionally on the purple stone set in a gold ring that covered her middle knuckle.

"I don't know anything about Vulcan engagements," Kirk admitted. "Or, honestly, all that much about Vulcan culture. I mean, I can tell a lot from Spock-at least, I think I can-but..." He shrugged. "Vulcans are very different from Terrans, but in ways that really surprise me." He sighed. "What exactly did you want to tell me?"

T'Pring blinked. "I mainly wanted to inform you of our engagement," she said. "It would be unfair for you not to know." Her voice grew icy. "I assume I do not need to clarify my intentions. As I have said, since Spock is my fiancée, his business is mine, and mine his. My actions are not to interfere, but to inform. I care about him. He cares about you. Thus, I care about you as well."

This was difficult. Kirk wasn't the best at diplomacy. He was sharp as a particle knife in most instances, but Vulcans, thus far, had all but confounded him. If he were being honest with himself, the majority of what he had attained from this discussion was that he suspected T'Pring of having emotions.

"Thank you," he said simply, "for your consideration. I think-" Kirk tried to place a polite emphasis on this "-that I understand what you are saying."

"That is all I can expect," said T'Pring, and Kirk was offended for a moment, until he realized that what she really meant was that she could not-or would not-simply come out and say exactly what she wanted to communicate, and thus she did not necessarily assume that Kirk would get what she was saying. Kirk wondered if this was the Vulcan way, or simply T'Pring's chosen method. But he did not want to ask.

"I also wish to ascertain your intentions towards Spock," said T'Pring smoothly.

"W-what?"

"What are your intentions towards Spock?" said T'Pring again.

Kirk's mind chose that moment to flash through an extremely large and vivid database of his more scandalous intentions towards Spock. "Um."

T'Pring nodded sagely. "Ah."

"I-" Kirk started to protest. Then he sighed, his head dropping. He felt like he had disappointed T'Pring, somehow. "I'm sorry."

When he looked back up, there were kind crinkles around T'Pring's black eyes. "Do not be sorry," she said, her voice gentler than it had been yet. "These are, I believe, the best of intentions." She added sweetly, "And if you hurt him in any way, I will kill you slowly."

x

Spock paced. He felt awful, and he paced more.

T'Ryne, a philosopher from the last century, had spoken on the ethics of disclosure. Spock closed his eyes and pictured a paragraph from her most famous essay. _Within the banns of our society-for our society _is_ constrained by banns-there are rules as strong as natural laws. One is that a Vulcan must not interfere in the affairs of those she is not bonded to. The betrothed, the spouse, the family-adopted or biological-until a degree removed five times: these are the basic webs of Vulcan entanglement. So what banns embody the relationship between a woman and her spouse's sexual partner, a man and his sixth cousin, a matriarch and her great-great-great-great-great grandson?_

That was the problem, though. T'Ryne's ideas about extra-bonded communication were never fully accepted by Vulcan society, and Spock knew for a fact that T'Pring's father followed the philosophy of T'Ryne's intellectual opposite, Sarenel.

It was an awful cycle. What would T'Pring say to Kirk? What did she feel she was allowed to say-or even allowed to imply? What, of her implications and statements, would Kirk understand? Most importantly-Spock swallowed-would Kirk be disappointed in him?

He stopped pacing. That was what he was afraid of. Spock let the fear of it wash over him: Kirk, looking at him with sad eyes, sighing that Spock had fallen short of his expectations.

Worse still, Spock had had plenty of opportunity to tell Kirk. When he had told Kirk about his past, about his youth as the wrong sex, he had discussed his relationship with T'Pring in detail-but not quite enough detail. It was not as if Vulcans were not allowed to disclose marital status to outsiders. Certainly it was forbidden to describe Vulcan ceremonies and mating behaviors, especially _pon farr_, to non-Vulcans. But the betrothal itself, even a brief description of the psychic bonding that occurred... this could be discussed with friends of sufficient closeness.

The question then became, _Why? _Spock clenched his fists and focused on his traitor mind. Why had he not told Kirk? He remembered the emotional turmoil of that night-but he also remembered that he had not even considered mentioning the betrothal to Kirk. It did not seem to be... related... to the tale he wished to convey. His was a story about sex and gender and youthful fear and confusion and pain. His tale was not meant to complicate, but clarify.

Spock sighed. He felt slightly better. He had not meant to deceive Kirk, not really. He had simply not wished to trouble him more. Admittedly-and Spock knew this, and it pained him-admittedly he should have told Kirk later, or even before, about his connection to T'Pring. And yet it was not a solid thing between them.

This was the other problem, the other complication that he did not know how to handle. It was not unheard of for Vulcans to break their bond. Most bonded Vulcans spent their lives together. They developed a connection in their youth, were bonded, attended the same schools and even worked in the same places. Then when the bloodlust came upon them, they consummated their sacred marriage. They made a new family together. For those Vulcans whose bonds were not as strong, the separation was obvious, the bond dissolved at or before _pon farr_ by mutual agreement and accord.

But Spock and T'Pring did not even have that. They were as friendly with each other as Vulcans would be, but they did not seek each other out, and more importantly, Spock had no idea how to talk to T'Pring. She was the perfect Vulcan woman-the model of everything Spock himself should have been. Smart as a _t'lengu_, skilled, competent, attractive, and even a little charismatic. And here he was, only half a Vulcan in the first place, lumped into the wrong body, awkward in a way other Vulcans would not accept, intelligent yet only for his own gain, full of past mistakes and future troubles, and worst of all, falling in love with a _human_...

The old despair began to well up in him. He did not fit. He would never fit. He would never be a proper Vulcan, would never be acclaimed by his people, would never even be accepted by them. To save himself, he had cast himself out, and yet he still survived on the edges, a representative of Vulcan society to others but not to himself-

_No. _Spock stopped that line of thought. He had a strength now that he did not have before. He _was _Vulcan, and he _was _Terran: not neither, but both in one, and stronger for it.

Spock closed his eyes. His blood was redder and cooler than Vulcan blood, and like a human, he could hear it pounding in his chest when he closed his eyes in silence. He touched the rib over his heart and breathed in the garden scent. The ethics of this disclosure were clear. He was in the wrong. He should have told Kirk. He should have not jeopardize their relationship. He should learn to talk with T'Pring. He should learn better what it was to live with feet on either shifting side of the interplanetary line. He should continue on being himself, for that was all he could ever be, and while he breathed air, while he pumped blood, he ought to appreciate that.

It was a mercy that Kirk chose that moment to emerge from the trees. There was no sign of T'Pring; Kirk did not look as if he expected her to appear. He was smiling a little, and obviously thoughtful. Spock watched him walk forward, and before Kirk could speak, Spock said, "Jim, I should have told you."

Kirk nodded. "Yeah," he said. "You should have." There was a little sadness in his voice, but it was not disappointment. But Spock was not sure what it was.

"This is a breach that I cannot heal myself. If you can forgive me, please tell me," Spock said quietly. He looked up through his lashes at Kirk, not knowing what a picture he made.

Kirk stared at him for a bit, then burst into laughter. "Are you kidding?" Kirk wheezed. "Of course I forgive you! I mean, okay, I was a little pissed there for a while, but-god, it's like a sitcom. Love interest turns out to be engaged!" Kirk kept laughing.

Spock, meanwhile, had a very quiet aneurysm, because gods above-had Kirk just said _love interest_?

Apparently, Kirk did not realize the magnitude of what he had said. His laughter trailed off after a while, and eventually he was just watching Spock, a slightly stupid smile on his face. Spock was watching him back, trying to control his breathing and his emotions and his head and also other things. He probably looked very focused.

"Are you okay?" Kirk finally asked, a little line of concern appearing between his brows.

"Yes," said Spock steadily, even though for once his life his intellect was totally failing him. He had no idea what to do. Kirk was acting just the same as always, like nothing was wrong at all. Like the world hadn't just flipped completely inside out.

"Well..." said Kirk slowly, still looking at Spock worriedly, "want to go study?"

"Um," Spock said. He blanched. Had he ever said _um _in his life? "Yes."

"Okay," said Kirk. He turned on his heel and headed for the entrance to the Embassy.

Spock took a last moment to calm himself before following. _Gods above, what to _do_?_

x

Kirk could be unbelievably slow at times, or lightning fast at others. He picked up on long, complicated strings of numbers and Greek letters and could calculate in his head as well as a computer. He wasn't the best at languages, but literary interpretation came easily. Sometimes diplomacy failed him; other times he was smooth as a criminal. He considered himself the definition of hit or miss.

So he put it down to a bad day when Spock started acting all strange and Kirk couldn't figure out why. Not only was he more flummoxed than he would have liked to admit by what T'Pring had told him, but now Spock was staring at him like he'd seen a ghost and walking around all hunched. Kirk felt like a total idiot.

Worse still, when Kirk started feeling dumb, it caused him to actually _be _dumb. They sat at Spock's dining room table working on physics, and Kirk kept having to look up really basic equations and concepts. He actually found himself unable to remember the eight types of matter at one point, having gotten stymied on number five, _dark energy_. He put his head in his hands. The review file was eighty-three pages long and he was only on page twelve.

"What is wrong, Jim?" Spock asked. He said it like he thought his voice was a hammer and Kirk was glass. Kirk hated himself.

"I'm an idiot," snapped Kirk. He was suddenly in a foul mood. Spock's face was too tragic for him to deal with. God, Spock never looked like that. He never looked so... _lost_. Kirk felt a warm rage in his throat. He didn't want to be around Spock. He hated how Spock made him feel, how uncomfortable he was around Spock, prickly and desperate. He started piling his datapads into his bag and putting away his other things.

"Are you leaving?" said Spock, an awful, sad note in his voice.

"Yes," said Kirk shortly. He shoved his PADD into his backpack, stood up, and slung it over his shoulder. "Sorry. I have to go."

Spock just nodded and hunched his shoulders. Kirk almost growled aloud. He stalked out of the kitchen and towards the entrance to the apartment.

Kirk was almost at the door when Spock was next to him. Kirk had not even heard him come up. Like a sweet cat, Spock's shoulder pressed up against Kirk. He looked, very seriously, straight into Kirk's eyes, and said, "Do not worry. We will all be... okay."

Kirk didn't know what to say to that. Some of the storming within him died down, but he was still buzzed and irritated. Even so, the expression on Spock's face had changed. It was reassuring, understanding. Kirk did not know that nobody else, not even Sarek, could have seen that, could have seen and understood the microexpressions formed by the smallest curve of Spock's lip, the slightest tilt of an eyebrow.

Impulsively, Kirk reached out and hugged him. It was brief, warm, just a press of their bodies together, a little uncomfortable where Spock's shoulder was still angled into Kirk's chest. But in that short moment, Kirk felt Spock's hot blood against his chest, smelled his clean hair and _sch'ola_-scented skin. Spock was such a distinct thing, a package of glorious differences that Kirk wanted to unwrap and examine at his leisure, intimately and sweetly.

But Kirk had packed his things, and even with the hug, there was not a moment to be broken. The air around them was empty, and there was sadness in the very corners of Spock's eyes. Kirk had to smile, terse and blue. And then he had to leave.

And then as he was walking out of the front doors of the Embassy, he thought to himself, _sitcom_; he thought to himself, _love interest_.

"Holy fucking _shit_," Kirk said, and promptly ran into a wall.

x

The gathering at Uhura's house had long since broken up when Spock's face flashed across Uhura's phone. She was cuddled under her covers, reading a really terrible sci-fi novel, eating Nutella with a popsicle stick, and avoiding all the homework she had to do, so she answered after powering down her reader. "Yo."

"Greetings, Nyota," said Spock, speaking a lot faster than usual. "I am very sorry to disturb you at this time, but may I consult with you about a personal matter of some importance?"

"For sure," said Nyota, sitting up and putting the Nutella on her nightstand. She didn't want a repeat of the Broken Lid Incident; she had liked those sheets. "What's up?"

"I think Jim is in love with me," Spock said in a rush.

Uhura paused in the middle of licking the popsicle stick clean. "I'll be right over."

x

When Bones answered his phone, the first thing he heard was Kirk shrieking.

"Dammit, Jim!" Bones hissed, holding the phone away from his ear. "What the fuck! Ow! Calm down!"

"I _can't_!" Kirk wailed. "Everything is ruined forever! Spock _knows_! I am the single stupidest person on the _planet_! I am going to die alone and unloved!"

"Christ in the ketchup," Bones muttered. He had been stretched on his couch at home, reading the _Odyssey _for English class, but now he stumbled into his room and pulled his boots on. "I'm comin' over. Don't do anythin' else stupid." He hung up on Kirk's anguished wails, shaking his head. "That boy wouldn't survive a day in the wild," he told the floor as he tied his laces.

x

"Okay," said Uhura, trying to speak slowly and clearly and also not imply that she found Spock to be alarmingly obtuse about this whole thing. "So. Let me just get this straight."

She and Spock were sitting on his bed, I-Chaya laying between them and drooling on Spock's leg. Spock was petting the _sehlat _a little frantically and trying, quite obviously, not to be utterly panicked. Uhura felt a headache building in her left temple. She wasn't a damn marriage counselor, and she really felt like she had been involved in way too many aspects of these boys' relationship. Males, she decided, even half-Vulcan males, had the emotional maturity of seven-year-olds, and were just as needy.

"You didn't tell Jim you were engaged to T'Pring." She glared at Spock. "For that matter, mister, you didn't tell _me _you were engaged to T'Pring. Is it a national secret or something? Is this a Vulcan cultural thing I'm not getting, or did you just fuck up?"

Spock stared at his knees. "I fucked up," he said quietly.

Uhura snorted. Spock stared at her. She couldn't help it and started cackling. "I'm sorry, I just-you never curse, and it's kind of funny when you do."

Spock scowled at her. "Nyota, this is _serious_!"

Uhura sobered. "Okay. Yes, it is serious. I'm sorry. So, you didn't tell Jim about your engagement, and then it came out in kind of a terrible way, but-you think Jim reacted well to it?"

"Well enough, I suppose," said Spock. "I-I cannot understand emotions very well. Jim's reactions are confusing."

Uhura tilted her head at him. "I thought that you were better at understanding him than most."

Spock scowled. "For me, it is about fifty percent to fifty percent. There are times in which I know him to the bottom of his soul, and others in which he is as blank to me as unpainted paper. Now it is as if he is speaking fluently in another language. I hear him, I see his lips move, but I do not understand."

They hashed through Kirk's statement. Uhura thought it likely that Kirk, who bullshitted all the time, had probably just not realized what he'd said aloud. Spock did not think that Kirk would do something so careless, which made Uhura cackle.

"Are you kidding?" she said between guffaws. "Jim Kirk is a total fucking idiot! He's one of the smartest people I know, but-you've seen the batshit stuff he gets up to! I mean, the first time you met him, he threw himself in front of a full-throttle hovercar."

This was an excellent point. Spock thought.

"Then if he did not mean to say it," he said slowly, "it is better that he not _know _he said it."

Uhura frowned.

"Perhaps he will not recognize what he has done, and we can continue on normally." Spock was nodding to himself.

"Wait, no," Uhura said, "but don't you want to-um, you know-make out and shit?"

"I do not want to jeopardize our relationship," said Spock firmly.

Uhura waved her arms around. "Oh my God, Spock! You can't just _deny _yourself into a relationship! If you act like this hasn't happened, then, spoilers, you can't make out! You should use this as an _opportunity_!"

But Spock was shaking his head. "No, I do not want to begin our relationship on unsure footing," he said. "I will not mention this to Jim. Undoubtedly, he has no idea what he said."

x

"I have no idea _why _I said that," Kirk was moaning when Bones finally tramped into his room. Winona had let him in wordlessly and pointed a thumb over her shoulder at Kirk's room, from which agonized wailing could be heard. "I am an idiot. I'm the stupidest person on the planet. I don't deserve to live!" He started beating his fists on his pillow.

"Good lord," Bones muttered. He picked up the cup on Kirk's nightstand, checked its contents, grinned, and threw it on Kirk.

"What the fuck!" Kirk spluttered and wiped frantically at his face. Bones bent over, wheezing from laughter.

"I'm sorry, Jim, I just had t' snap you outta it." He grinned evilly. "Aren't you used t' that kinda thing by now?"

"Oh my god, Bones, gross," muttered Kirk, pulling his duvet over his head to dry himself off. "No, you asshole, I am not used to that."

Bones sat down at Kirk's wobbly desk chair. "So what'd you do this time?"

Kirk explained the situation, complete with grand reenactments. (His bookcase played Spock. "Remarkable likeness," Bones commented.) Bones was frowning and stroking his chin thoughtfully by the end of it. Kirk eyed him.

"Do you _have _a beard?" he said acidly, but Bones ignored him.

"Seems t' me that you oughta talk t' him about it," Bones said reasonably. "I know your general stance is 'fuck first, ask questions later,' but you two have this weird, stable rapport goin'. You should get on that." He grinned lecherously. "In more ways than one."

Kirk threw his pillow at him. "Perv. But really, he looked like he was totally freaked out. I don't think he likes me."

Bones snorted loudly enough to blow the eardrums out of a mouse. "Are you _kiddin' _me? He's just as in love with you as you are with him!"

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Whatever. That is not true. He was all weird and trembly when I left and he said something about us being okay and I think it was just him saying, like, 'Listen, I forgive you for liking me, we can be friends in spite of this.'"

Bones clawed at his face. "No! God, Jim! He _likes you back_, that's probably what he was tryin' to say!"

Kirk's mind was made up. "I know him, okay? That's not what his reaction was. Fuck, I can't possibly talk to him about this again-he's already concluded it. No, never mind-that was dumb of me, really dumb, but it's over."

Bones's face started twitching.

x

March drizzled into April. Heavy blankets of fog laid themselves across the waters every morning, until one Monday, when the Bay woke up to bright sun and folded, finally dry umbrellas.

Most of Enterprise High dragged itself into school early that day, glaring resentfully at the sun. As luck would so brilliantly have it, that Monday was the first day of Advanced Placement testing, and nobody had any time at all to enjoy the gorgeous weather.

Exhausted test-takers filed into the waiting room outside the testing chamber like they were on a death march, cheerful sun mocking their trek inside. Chapel noticed a pile of student in a black jacket, reeking of pot and coffee, collapsed against a pillar outside the testing room. She poked it hesitantly with her toe. "Hello?" she said, worried. "Are you alive?"

"No," Sulu moaned. "I've passed on. Tell College Board to stop sending me emails."

"In your wildest dreams," sighed Chapel, sliding down the pillar to sit next to him. "Where's Pavel? Isn't he generally three hours early for these types of things?"

"In the bathroom," said Sulu. He pulled a chocolate bar out of his pocket and consumed it in two bites. "He drank so much coffee I think his bladder is going to burst."

"Oh, Jesus," said Chapel, trying to imagine the already-hyper Chekov on that much caffeine. "How have you survived?"

"It's been tough," said Sulu.

Scotty came in equipped with ten sandwiches in a mini-fridge in his bag and was so busy rereading his textbooks that he tripped over Sulu's sprawled body. Uhura only looked alert because she'd gotten an expresso shot (even though those were definitely illegal) and also had some espresso. Spock looked perfectly normal except for the fact that his clothes were on backwards and his generally alert expression was actually, if you looked closely, utterly glazed. Bones wouldn't (or, perhaps, couldn't) speak and almost punched someone who ran into his coffee. Kirk literally crawled through the door.

The first test of the day was Physics I, followed by Physics II that afternoon. Physics I was required for entrance to Starfleet, and Physics II looked good as well, so almost that was taking the first test would stay for the second. The proctor, a blond, white Terran who taught freshmen, escorted them in, grinning in a manner totally incongruous to the atmosphere. "He's probably all happy about the sun or some shit," Kirk muttered darkly to Bones, who merely grunted.

The students filed into their alphabetically ordered seats and picked up their styli. Slowly they filled out their demographic data, addresses, and personal information on large, AP-standard PADDs. Spock felt a pang when he entered his encryption key, which, as was standard, flashed once on the screen and was gone. His father's encryption key, writ in ambassadorial purple, glowed briefly in his mind.

Even for the smartest in the class, the test was grueling. Kirk went into shutdown mode, and felt as if he were coming out of a coma when the fourth hour was up and the PADD he was still checking answers on abruptly switched screens and sent his data. There was a little shriek from somewhere behind him-apparently someone hadn't been done. Kirk looked around and saw Bones, very quietly, break his stylus in two.

They all went to Dynamo's, a little way down Ghreywack, for lunch. Dynamo's was normally a rousing place, but the students who filed in talked almost none, and what they did say was in tearful whispers. By a quarter to one, everyone had their Physics II study guides out. "Lambs to the slaughter," Gaila sighed as they filed out at one on the dot. By one thirty, the cycle of pain had begun again.

So the weeks went. Physics, chemistry, English language and literature, math, environmental science, music, biology, social history, political history, art history, science history, governments, culture, various languages and their literature counterparts, economics, statistics, psychology, sociology, art, computing science, engineering, agriculture, logic, and rhetoric. The list endless, the scheduling complicated, the tantrums frequent, the students pushed on, driven by success, money, fame, pride, and parents. The new hovercar, almost complete, lay forgotten in its garage for two full weeks, collecting dust. Scotty didn't look over the plans for a full week, Sulu didn't have time for his flight simulator, and Spock lost his worry in studies.

The sun shone not on all on the glorious final Friday of testing, but nobody cared. As the students streamed, for the last time, out of the testing room that had been their prison, somebody set off a confetti bomb. Laughing and clutching each other, Kirk and Chapel, with Sulu and Chekov following closely, dragged themselves out of the crowd hurrying to their cars.

Sulu pulled the PADD he had been taking notes on, set it gently on the ground, and stomped on it. Kirk flinched. He didn't have quite enough money to do the same, even though he completely understood the sentiment. Chapel and Chekov laughed as Sulu leapt around on the pieces.

"You know what's totally unfair about all of this?" Chapel reflected as Sulu gathered up the pieces of his PADD and conveyed them to a nearby garbage can. "I don't even have a dress yet. I'm going to have to go shopping tonight. I can't possibly go tomorrow morning!"

Sulu pouted. "I wanted to get a dress too, but I really don't have time."

It took Kirk a while to figure out that they were talking about prom. "Oh my god," he burst out, "is that _tomorrow?_"

Sulu, Chekov, and Chapel stared at him. "Yes," said Chekov, very slowly and emphatically.

"Fuck," said Kirk, "I need clothes too!"

x

Which was how all eight members of the hoverclub, plus Gaila, ended up at the mall that evening.

Nobody was sure why Spock was there, or who had asked him to come. They were all too pleased that he had actually decided to go shopping to question his motivations. "Obviously," he had said acidly to Scotty's question about his own anticipated purchases, "I already own formal garments. Thus, there is no need for me to _purchase_ formal garments."

"Jayse, no need t' get twisted knickers," Scotty snapped back. "Ah'm in your boat as well—already got m'kilt for th' shindig."

That was a bit of a lie on Scotty's part, it turned out. He already had his kilt, but he was looking for proper shoes to go with it and dragged them to four different shoe shops.

Kirk didn't really have anything formal enough for prom, but he also couldn't afford something from the mall. All of the money he made at Gothos went to Winona, who distributed wealth as needed. He kept very little for himself, mainly just pocket change to spend eating and boozing, and on little things, like a t-shirt from the bargain bin at Harto. He figured he could cobble together an outfit with Aurelan when he got home. He smiled to himself. Most of his money had gone towards Aurelan's prenatal care. She was fit to bust, due in a month.

The girls all bought dresses (Gaila's outrageously low-cut), as did Sulu, Pavel purchased something furry and apparently both formal and Russian in origin that made Sulu swoon at him, Bones found a tux rental, and Scotty got shoes. As he and Spock were the only ones without shopping bags, they found themselves tasked with getting Sulu's and Chapel's cars from the auto-lot down the street.

"Did you go to prom last year?" Kirk asked, wondering what prom at this school was like. Prom at his school in Iowa had been a small affair accented mainly by crepe paper, which one of his friends had called "disappointingly 1900s."

"Yes," said Spock distractedly, typing the recall number on the auto-lot's user panel. The parking machine whirred and creaked and they watched as the two cars were shuffled towards them. "The prom committee is staffed by very capable people. The crepe paper is quite enchantingly hung."

Kirk scowled. "What about the music? And why don't they have it at a hotel instead of in the gym?"

Spock looked over at Kirk, his brow raised. "Jim, I do not know," he said, as if this should be obvious.

The auto-lot returned Spock's cash chip and expelled the cars. Kirk thought of something as he was unlocking Chapel's Subaru.

"Hey, all those dates you went on—are you going to prom with any of them?" Kirk asked, looking over the hood of the car at Spock.

"I am going to prom with our group," said Spock slowly. They had already discussed this over pretzels while waiting for Chekov to decide on eye makeup.

"No, but, like, are you meeting up with anyone there?" Kirk clarified. He hoped he didn't sound as desperate as he was.

"I suppose I shall greet people I know when I see them..." Spock said, obviously confused. He gave Kirk one last look and shut the door of Sulu's car. Kirk sighed and buckled himself in. That was the problem with crushing on Vulcans. They had absolutely no idea when you were fishing for info, not to mention flirting. Kirk suspected that he could actually shake his ass at Spock while wearing a g-string and singing "Come Love Me Now" and Spock would just think it was a weird human thing and give him the Eyebrow. Hm. Kirk watched Spock in the rearview mirror, considering. Maybe that was a good idea, even so.

x


End file.
